Kenapa Aktivis Tidak Boleh Salah?

 

Menjadi tahu ternyata tidak selamanya berkah, tetapi kutukan. Belum lama ini aku muak karena selalu dilabeli dengan label seorang aktivis, social justice warrior atau apapun itu. Label-label itu membuat diriku terbelenggu. Aku seolah dianggap bukan manusia lagi karena harus selalu bertindak benar. Setiap gerak, mata-mata itu selalu mengikuti. Setiap celah mulut-mulut itu berucap, melontarkan maki-makian.

Seharusnya tidak ada beda antara aktivis dan bukan aktivis. Ini seharusnya menjadi persoalan kesadaran dan tindakan. Jika kita meyakini bahwa semua orang harus belajar, maka seharusnya semua orang belajar untuk tahu dan turut bertindak? Bukan kemudian menghindari untuk tahu dan mendapat pemakluman. Aku tak menyukai dikotomi aktivis dan non aktivis. Ini adalah permainan identitas yang membodohkan. 

Aku muak dan terlalu dengan beban yang tersemat pada seorang aktivis. Kita semua memiliki kecenderungan untuk melakukan kesalahan. Namun ternyata, seorang aktivis mendapatkan penghukuman lebih berat, tanpa pernah melihat hal-hal baik yang pernah dilakukan.

Pengasingan adalah hukuman klise yang diberikan dan hidupnya ditutup dari berbagai kemungkinan untuk tumbuh. Saya bertanya, jika semua orang memiliki kecenderungan untuk salah, kenapa tidak diberikan kesempatan kedua, ketiga, keempat, bagi yang salah untuk berbuat kebaikan kembali? Dia perlu dirangkul. Pengasingan tak akan membuat manusia menjadi manusia kembali.

Aku teringat pada sebuah puisi terakhir dari Soe Hok Gie di saat-saat dia merasakan keterasingan hebat karena perbedaannya. Dia berkata:

…

Setelah kita bosan hidup dan terus bertanya-tanya.

Tentang tujuan hidup yang tak satu setan pun tahu.

Mari sini sayang ku...

Kalian yang pernah mesra,

Yang pernah baik dan simpati pada ku..

Tegaklah ke langit luas atau awan yang mendung...

Kita tak pernah menanamkan apa-apa.

Kita tak kan pernah kehilangan apa-apa.

 

 

Melihat Bunuh Diri Dengan Pandangan Lain

Mungkin tulisan ini perlu diawali dengan pernyataan bahwa ini bukan surat perpisahan, bukan ajakan, atau bukan penilaian. Tulisan ini adalah ungkapan pertemuanku dengan kasus bunuh diri. Tulisan ini juga sebatas kegelisahan ideologis yang berkecamuk. Seorang psikolog akan mengatakan seseorang tidak boleh melakukan bunuh diri. Baginya seseorang yang ingin bunuh diri sedang mengalami gangguan jiwa yang perlu ditolong. Sebaliknya, seorang nihilis mungkin menganggap bunuh diri adalah pilihan hidup. Toh buat apa juga hidup jika semuanya tidak berarti.

Pertemuan pertamaku dengan bunuh diri terjadi waktu di awal usia 20an tahun. Dia adalah konselorku, seorang yang penuh riang dan tawa. Dia menikah dan meninggalkan pekerjaannya sebagai konselor di sebuah lsm, pekerjaan yang dicintainya dengan sungguh-sungguh. Aku dengar dia memiliki kehidupan yang Bahagia. Namun tiba-tiba suatu hari dia datang ke kantor lsm dengan koper besar. Dia membuat bercerita bahwa dunia telah gawat dan mereka harus melakukan sesuatu. Dia juga berbagi tentang impiannya mendirikan sekolah alternatif. Tak seorang pun tahu apa yang sebenarnya terjadi. Hingga sore menjelang malam, dia ditemukan menggantung di rumahnya. Semua orang tertusuk dan terluka, siapa yang menyangka. Siapa yang menyangka, orang yang dikenal penuh tawa ternyata ingin mengakhiri hidupnya.

Ada beberapa kasus bunuh diri yang terjadi. Namun aku ingin memilih beberapa kasus saja yang membuatku merasa resah.

Seorang teman lama yang kukenal cukup pintar dan mapan. Dia seharusnya tidak perlu bekerja karena orang tuanya berlimpah harta. Aku memang mendengar keluarganya berantakan dan dia harus tinggal dengan ayahnya. Dia sempat berpacaran dengan dua orang sahabatku, semuanya berkahir tragis. Namun karena hal itu aku menjadi dekat dengan dia karena aku seperti sebagai jembatan antara dia dengan sahabat-sahabatku. Namun dia kemudian pergi dari Jogja dan suatu hari aku mendengar dia telah mengakhiri hidupnya. Aku mencoba menelisik apa yang terjadi dengan dirinya. Dia adalah seorang yang tidak meyakini Tuhan. Lalu dia sendiri tertarik untuk mempelajari apa yang akan terjadi setelah seorang meninggal dunia. Aku merasa dia sangat serius dengan penelitiannya. Terakhir aku membaca beberapa tulisannya tentang cara mengakhiri hidup dengan hal yang tidak menyakitkan. Dia pun mengakhiri hidupnya dengan cara itu. Aku tak merasakan dirinya sedih. Aku sangat merasa aneh, aku pun ternyata juga bersikap biasa saja dengan kematiannya.

Belum lama ini aku kehilangan seseorang yang aku cintai. Dia mengakhiri hidupnya secara tragis. Dia mencoba mencari pertolongan tetapi masalahnya memang sangat rumit. Dia dijebak dalam suatu masalah yang rumit dan penjahat itu mengeksploitasi finansialnya. Bagiku ini bukan bunuh diri melainkan pembunuhan. Namun hukum di Indonesia tak melihat perkara ini secara mendalam. Ini bunuh diri tetapi juga pembunuhan.

Mungkin aku tidak memiliki pendapat yang tegas mengenai bunuh diri. Mungkin aku memiliki kecenderungan berpihak pada nihilis. Bagiku hidup atau mati adalah pilihan. Kita semua telah hidup dan merasakan bagaimana hidup. Senang, sedih, kecewa, marah dan sebagainya. Kadang aku berpikir, jika kita terus hidup, apa yang akan kita peroleh lagi? Apakah ada hal baru yang tidak kita rasakan sebelumnya? Jika memilih mati, kenapa itu menjadi hal buruk? Apalagi jika kita telah merasa cukup dengan hidup.

Aku ingin menutup tulisan ini dengan ingatanku tentang sebuah pertemuan dengan seorang beberapa tahun yang lalu. Dia adalah seniman teater muda yang berbakat, bahkan jenius! Kasusnya sangat popular karena berbagai tuduhan seperti mengikuti gereja setan, dsb. Mungkin pilihan bunuh diri adalah caranya keluar dari berbagai persoalan hidup yang rumit dan seolah tak bisa diselesaikan. Namun bunuh dirina bagiku adalah pertunjukan seni. Dia melakukannya dengan penuh keindahan, dia menuliskan sebuah script pertunjukkan untuk mengatakan cukup pada kehidupan. Apa yang salah dari bunuh diri? Mungikinkan yang salah sebenarnya adalah kehidupan? Maka jangan salah untuk menyalahkan?

 

Kenapa mendengarkan orang lain lebih mudah daripada mendengarkan diri sendiri?

Seperti orang tersesat, dia terdorong untuk bertanya ke mana jalan yang benar. Namun dia tidak pernah puas dan terus bertanya. Kemudian orang-orang memberinya jalan kebenaran dari versi mereka masing-masing. Dia terlalu menyerap banyak hal sehingga membuatnya menimbang-nimbang, terombang ambing. Sedikit demi sedikit, pertimbangan itu meracaunya. Lalu, kebenaran demi kebenaran menjadi relatif dan seolah tidak ada lagi kebenaran.

Emosinya mulai bergejolak, meluap-luap dan hampir meledak. Tak tahu lagi mana yang benar. Lalu dia memilih sesuatu yang menurutnya benar. Dia melihat segala sesuatu dalam kacamata dirinya dan kacamata itu berbentuk egosentris. Dirinyalah yang paling benar. Namun sebenarnya hatinya hampa. Walau dia telah memiliki jalan kebenarannya, ada keraguan dalam hati. Dan pelan-pelan dia tersadar, dia terlalu banyak mendengarkan orang dan lupa mendengar dirinya sendiri.

Dirinya hilang dalam kehidupan yang berjalan terlalu cepat. Membuatnya menjadi seorang ahistoris. Kepentingan adalah persoalan hari ini dan besok. Kebenaran adalah wujud dari kepentingan-kepentingan.

Aku berkata kepadanya, ada sesuatu yang tidak bisa didengar dengan telinga. Karena telinga hanya mendengar ucap, bukan getaran hati.

The Paper Boat

  

    

    The paper boat set sail. Carrying love letters with crazy wishful thinking. The dream of someone coming to revive the love that had been extinguished. And so he arrived in the Nusantara, after a long journey around the world, on an island where as far as the eye could see was a stretch of ocean with a blue sky. 

        That afternoon he walked along the deserted shoreline with the wind waving shyly. In the distance he saw the man he had been waiting for coming. How happy he was and his soul came alive. his dreams were coming to life. 

The paper set sail, swerving along the ferocious waves that broke on the land. Reminding him life magic. They both sat and watched the sun sink slowly. It was as if time was slowing down and he wanted it to be slower this time. Then when night fell they would make love passionately. Burning with happiness.

        The paper boat set sail, amongst the billions of humans on his journey he finally found his lover who was nothing but a mirror of himself wounded . If he saw the man sobbing, he also saw himself on the man. Now nothing could stand in the way of his love for him. 

The days turned out to pass unlike the coconut tree that stood rigidly motionless. It was then that they sat together on the balcony terrace. He didn't know how to say goodbye and the man just silently lit his cigarette and suddenly burst into tears. 

In the morning when he passed, the man was supposed to come. But the man did not arrive. His heart dimmed. Then he believe there is always suffering in every love. 

But he never give up on love. One year later, he returned to the same hotel in the same room. He sat on the balcony terrace and hoped he would see the man and send him a message. But there was no more magic after the wound. 

The paper boat set sail, this time the paper boat was just boat paper made. The water slowly seeped in and sucked the boat into the deep ocean. As deep as the broke heart sink soul. 

Teman dan Kekasih

Ini bukan puisi cinta penuh buai-buai kasih sayang yang lama-lama membuatmu mual karena kehidupanmu ternyata tak seindah yang yang kamu harapkan. 

Ini juga bukan esai yang berbual tentang kebijakan-kebijakan cinta yang membuat kupingmu bebal karena ternyata kamu terluka berkali-kali dan tak menemukan pelajaran sama sekali.

Ini hanyalah sebuah kegundahan karena kehidupan telah mempertemukan kita sebagai orang asing, lalu mendekatkan kita sebagai teman, dan menjauhkan kita sebagai kekasih. 

Kepadamu aku bertanya, apakah kita ini teman atau kekasih?

Ataukah kita dan dan bukan atau?

Nyanyikan aku lagu-lagu cinta yang memperdaya hati yang terombang-ambing, dan biarkan aku tertipu, tersipu, dan tersapu.

Tentang Linkaran

Untuk Jacqueline Van Ewijk

Kau berkata hidup seperti lingkaran.

Dimulai dengan titik, lalu menggaris menuju titik awal kembali.

Menjadi lingkaran.

Selesai.

Lalu menggambar lingkaran-lingkaran lain.

 

Bagiku.

Hidup itu adalah lingkaran-lingkaran yang terjalin menjadi “tak terbatas”

Sekali “hidup”, benih-benih bersemayam di hati orang-orang,

Tumbuh, lalu berbunga, dan mekar.

Malam Gelap Waisak

Kulihat,

Perempuan itu menari-nari.

Tangisnya menyentuh hati para hakim.

Maka hukumannya disunat kurang dari dua tahun. 

Perempuan itu menari-nari girang.

Bersama partai politik mengangkangi WALUBI.

Perempuan itu menari-nari malam ini.

Saat ribuan lampion terbang ke langit malam. 

Dan setidaknya 3 Milyar ada ditangannya.

Perempuan itu masih menari.

Dan kulihat lampion-lampion bertubrukan.

Mengusir Theravada.

Mengucilkan pendoa kecil berdoa di bawah pohon di pojokan Borobudur. 

Api menyala jingga di lautan malam. 

Tak kulihat Budha di sana.

23 Mei 2024

Between Yogyakarta and Bangkok

She just got back from Bangkok! Actually, her departure was something I was grateful for. All this time this city, Yogyakarta, cursed her life in an endless cycle of happiness and heartbreak. That night we met, it was good to see her again. We met at a community house that serves as a shelter for lonely people. In a living room decorated with foreign flags, adventure photos and dusty statues. We both sat in a room full of memories.

Just as I sat down, she pulled out something that reminded me she never changed. It's a fresh coat of pink nail polish. She asks for my fingers and I can't resist. She says I'm too male for a queer. I didn't want to argue and let her tell me her story.

She told me that she wasn't okay leaving the city. She was in love, but it was impossible because she had to go to Bangkok. Heartbreak was no stranger to her, but her heart was broken when her partner told her that he had to company her all the way to the Thai embassy so as not to make her a street whore by giving her a little attention and compassion from an honorable man.

So she arrived in Bangkok with a promise to herself that she wanted to be alone. Bangkok was a tough city like Jakarta. She found life hard enough and along came another man with his warm friendship. Like all love stories, it started with warm friendship, then bed and heart. 

Not only Yogyakarta, but she was also cursed in Bangkok. The fall this time left him broken again and today she was back in Yogyakarta polishing my pink nails. I asked him why her life was too fast to find love? She hasn't recovered from a broken heart.  

Did it also mean she had given up on life and let herself be like a flower infested with beetles, bees and flies. I told her her life story would never change if she continued like this. 

I told her she shouldn't give up and fight for the love she meets in the future. Of course, she had to heal herself from the wounds first.  

To Uki

I haven't looked at you closely for a long time. I didn't have the courage "yesterday" and kept my distance. Without realising it, you have aged as if to prove that time really does run. You can't always lie about your grey hair that you polish with black dye. A thin line cuts across your face that is full of smiles and warmth. 

It has been a long time since we had the chance to talk about life. I was immersed in my work as a social worker and you were enjoying your adventurous too much. Once, you said it was hard to meet me, actually I wanted to response that it was all your fault because you were the one who introduced me to social movements. Don't get me wrong, I've never regretted it and am actually grateful. 

Last night I went to your house and as usual you weren't there. I sat in the living room as usual. My gaze travelled across the room, where various memories were nails in photos, accessories or traditional totems. As if nothing had changed, I suddenly became very melancholic. I spoke to Yanto (Yanti) for a while, but he quickly scurried off to have some fun in the bathroom. I was left to wait if the guests had any questions. I got up and moved to your favourite chair in the corner of the room. Oh, this is the kind of scene you see when we gather in the centre and you watch from the corner. Like a mother watching her children. 

It wasn't long before you appeared with another Yanto. You had just returned from Imogiri because there was a new coffee shop and interestingly it was run by a young local. That's normal for me, but your story takes my breath away. The never-ending adventures that established you as an anthropologist, although I was quite disappointed that you rarely wrote about it. Even though I bought you a diary. How can you be immortal without writing?

If I'm not mistaken. Do you still feel lonely? You never tell me about it anymore. Nothing is perfect and I think your loneliness is what makes you human. Don't ever trapped by young people who only want your wealth. Leave your friends who are only there when they need you. Living alone isn't that painful. And maybe living alone isn't mean lonely. 

I still remember a picture of you with your friends. The day said that your turn would come soon. I got goosebumps hearing that even though I know everyone dies eventually. But I still had a promise for you, a promise of a pending adventure. You did say that it wasn't a promise, but let's do it!

So that I can die in peace.

About Closed Relationships

 After falling in love, it turns out that love wants to own the body and soul and does not want to share it with anyone. There is an ego that is born and grows, recognised together and legitimised by the sacred feeling called love. If I love you, then you are mine. 

However, I ask you that there is a carnal lust in our souls that wants to taste the beautiful bodies of others. And of course you can't deny that.

Then you say that if intercourse without love is an accident and if there is still love inside deep of our heart, then you will hide the accident deeply in a secret box. Lock it and lose the key forever. And strangely, if you find out from others that I've had an affair, you want to keep that jealousy and knowledge bottled up while waiting to see if I enjoy the affair for the sake of the affair. 

If there is love then you and I will return. That's what a natural human being does. 

All this time I'm used to enjoying the pleasures of the flesh and separating love far away from this filth. For me, honesty called open relationship is a desire not to be hypocritical and maybe this idea is too radical. 

Inside the window while sad song plays, I gazed at the night streets. I've been feeling lonely as a human for a long time. I think I need to learn how to be a normal human being. 

About New Life

Airports and the air separate New York and Jakarta,

The restlessness in your chest and the secrets waiting in the heart of poetry are separated by words,

So is longing,

Between islands and a crazy adventurer,

    Batas- M. Aan Mansyur

        Rangga had to leave for New York, he could not say goodbye to Cinta other than sending a poem. That afternoon, after reading Rangga's poem, Cinta caught up with Rangga and they went their separate ways. 

        Rangga went to New York and he was supposed to be there. Leaving Jakarta, leaving behind the old life that gave him happiness. Life is like a flowing river. Of course, don't think if you can't swim. Anyone will be swept away into new lives. 

        Rangga has lived in New York for several years. It turns out he is not tied to Jakarta. And it turns out New York is a romantic city, more romantic than Paris. 

       

         He found himself in New York. Not in Jakarta.

Little Bit Hero Complex #1

Last night at 2 am I got a call from a woman from the sex worker community who had just been evicted from her flat. I don't know what trouble she was in. She and her three children were forced to sleep on the roadside near JEC. She asked me if I could provide temporary shelter for them. If only my mobile phone wasn't switched off every night. I would have gone over to them and helped them settle down. But recently I decided to switch off my mobile phone at night.

I don't know where it came from, but something stirred in my soul. I want to get involved, to share resources, to solve the problems I see. Was this a consciousness built from a pile of social theories? Or was it the background of being a fellow oppressed person? Actually, this conscious and subconscious desire had been gnawing at me all along. I felt tired and gradually became fed up.

Feeling responsible for something that I shouldn't have to take on. 

I was tired and wanted to be free. Is it time to leave????    

About My Little Chinese

Tonight I'm trying to find an old post about someone I know well and love. It was written before his birthday and he said it was the best birthday present he ever got. Unfortunately, I couldn't find it. I am now disappointed that I was too submissive and just said YES when he asked me to taken down from my blog. He was surprised when his sister google his name and found my blog in the search engine. Maybe his sister thought what is the relationship between me, an amateur writer, and her brother who has no achievements and why is her brother worth writing about? Of course, his sister doesn't understand that the writing is made with love and not a trail of life achievements. That's a different logic. 

We weren't together for long, it turned out that I was unable to contain the emotions of ‘My Little Chinese’ (The name I used to call him) and I really enjoyed fucking other people. My thinking was too liberal and there was no place for it in his concept of love. We parted on bad terms even though I wanted to part on good terms. 

One day a miracle came! In the depths of his despair he asked me to meet him at a stall because he didn't have anyone who would listen. He also didn't have a friend who could fulfil his intellectual needs. Maybe he got what he wanted that time and I got our friendship back. 

Before long, I knew he was busy with his studies and thesis. So we rarely communicated again. In my hindsight, I miss climbing mountains together, getting drunk , or imprisoning myself in a room while having great sex with him.   

The farewell came, he contacted me during  his graduation day. He didn't invite me to the campus but to La Fayete Hotel, a luxurious place full of voluptuous red colours. That night we didn't say much and just had sex. It was weird sex and we didn't like it anymore. We ended without an orgasm and sat on the balcony smoking Sampoerna cigarettes, his favourite. We are young people who look to the future with uncertainty. 

That night turned out to be the real goodbye. One year later, a friend contacted me that he had died. I was terrified because I didn't feel anything.  

"Once upon a time on the same side, in the same game
Now why'd you have to go?
Have to go and throw water on my flame"

Coldplay ft Rihanna -- Princess of China

About Academics

 I was supposed to work on the grant proposal today, but I chose to meet new friends instead. One of them seemed familiar, as if I had met on some other occasion but I gave up on finding answers, and so did he. He told me he was studying for his Master's degree in Sociology Education. Damn! I don't know why I was surrounded by Sociology people. It felt like a cruel rebuke because I didn't dare to study that major even though I wanted to. It all happened because I hoped for a good future, which I thought narrowly define as a major that guarantees a well-paid job.

Anyway, my new friend is already in his second year. He has almost finished his thesis with the theme of sociology education that gives students a sense of empathy for others. I'm very interested in that education because I'm crazy about Paulo Freire, the hero of the amazon nation against the evil corporations destroying the forest. My friend is working on exploring various theories that would enable him to create a curriculum that would engender empathy. 

After explaining, I asked him a question about whether he was optimistic about Indonesian education, and he replied NO. I was stunned, so what is he writing now? And more importantly for what?

Although he also admires Paulo Freire, he seems to forget that education is politics. The state builds an education system that can perpetuate its power. I can't imagine how the curriculum can accommodate the value of empathy? Is it just limited empathy? Empathy that does not lead to rebellion. But how can we empathise but not be angry and moved by oppression? I don't think that's empathy. 

I don't know what got into him that he also said himself that what he wrote would probably never be read by anyone. This is where I feel sad. Academia seems to be a world of its own, dreamy, detached from reality. Academia seems to be a playground of ideas and one can live with their nonsense.  

About Breaking Up

You were sitting in the corner of your room, throwing your gaze out the window, looking at the towering trees against the blue sky. I knew you weren't well, so I ventured to open a conversation with you. As usual your cry broke and it made my heart shrink, I couldn't bear to see you like that again. again and again.

I don't know what made us last this long even though we hurt and wounded each other. I think it's because neither of us has the courage to make a decision. And today I dared to make a choice that you could never accept. We are not lovers but friends. What many people think might be impossible. But I want to try it with you. 

We started all this when you were in the deepest of slumps. I as a new person in your life, someone who was actually trying to heal, was moved to help you. I did it so sincerely that I forgot how we became lovers. Maybe I believe that love comes from habit. Used to talking to each other, used to spending time together. 

At that time I forgot to say that I was someone who couldn't be jealous. I was also very fond of having sex with various people I met. This relationship has been built on injustice and violence. A sad reality for an activist who fights for humanity.  

Without realising it, without this ideal situation, we have actually grown. I see you are strong and I am happy for you. Maybe it's good that we are like this. Maybe we still have a long way to go. We need to feel love again and heartbreak, and continue to do so. 

We don't know what the future holds, I don't know what the future holds. Can we stay in the same house and take care of each other without getting hurt?

About My Father Who Had Two Wives

He sometimes comes at night after I've had a bad day. Always the same dream, He stood smiling as if hhe felt no guilt at all. When I woke up I realised that hhe had died a few years ago. But his arrival left me with an unbearable hatred.

Since childhood I was an inquisitive child and too smart to be lied to. One day I learnt that my father had two wives and everything made sense. My father who looked so busy. My mum who was always grumbling. And me growing up in my own way. Then when I was in junior high school, a friend of mine taunted me with a song of flickering disco colours that meant my father had two wives. What did that have to do with me not knowing anything? 

When I was in senior high school. My mum miscarried for the second time in a row. I didn't feel good. I wanted to say something to Mum, but I didn't dare. I finally had another brother who was 16 years away. I knew it was a prison for my mum to keep her at home. I know my father's cunning mind

I left home because I fed up with his lies. It turned out to be one of the most irresponsible decisions I ever made in my life. I pushed the problem onto my first brother. It shackled him to the family and prevented him from moving forward. I felt so guilty, but I knew it was because of him.

I had actually promised not to take care of him. But it was all because of Mum that I became the only person to bring his peaceful death. 

Sadly, I felt no relief at all. I always remember how he spent her time having fun. But in times of trouble, he came back to my family and I played the good son. How ironic. And finally I realised that he never apologised to us, to me.  

Today I tried to understand why he did all this. But I can't understand even though I also committed infidelity. I can't justify what he did to me and I can't justify what I did. 

It's as if life has trapped me in a storyline that I can't choose. 

 

About Plato and Platonic

Outside the wall of Athens, Plato's wisdom shine,

Students gathered, minds eager and keen.

One asked what is true love

Plato proclaimed: the soul's beauty unseen.

***

Plato was ranting again, in the middle of the garden outside the walls of Athens. He was reading his new work entitled ‘Symposium’. His students swarmed like bees around a newly bloomed flower. I, meanwhile, kept my distance.Nothing interested me except his nonsense about true love. 

I wanted to reproach him critically, How could he talk about true love when no one was his lover? His students, his followers were no crazier, they even called his descriptions platonic love. 

But I kept quiet, something kept me quiet.

*** 

Letter to letter,

unintentionally, feelings are conveyed 

Archytas is Plato embodied in the republic

***

Nothing nails us but time

One day apart, by distance embraced

If our love is true love

True love transcends, space can't be our case 

***

Fuck you Plato!

About Anger

 

On a sunny day who expects rain.

We should be able to go to the city and walk down the narrow alleyways to watch people's funny antics.

It's like we're omniscient and we're just a couple of people who are too smart to be lovers. 

Maybe you have a point, it's better if you're a bit dumb.

Let me look smart and our paths won't be full of preconceptions.

At a nice dinner with a variety of delicious food, warm conversation, in the place where we first met.

Who would have expected you to be hurt, angry and blaming yourself for so many failures.

I unwisely crossed your line.

Tearing apart your mind and going too deep into your soul.

You turned so cold that I trembled helplessly.

I was scared. 

***

In the end, it may seem like you gave in.

Being an old man, it's as if you're the one who should understand things.

But you forget that I also chose to stand by you.

Honey, 

I want a ceasefire and welcome you with a hug. 

An Ordinary day

In the dark sky, full moon arise.

Tonight with you everything feels right.

Underneath the stars, we staring future false.

In the hollow mind our dreams take flight.

***

One day will come to an ordinary day.

A day when you will wake up in a hurry.

Time will become ordinary.

Your journey will be greeted by tall buildings.

Up there, you'll languish in a cubicle behind a desk.

Collecting money that you never know what for?

Then you arrive at the old building you call home and there's no one there.

You take a pinch of water and pour it on a single plant in a lonely pot.

That night you'll have no one but your dinner delivery boy.

And your night ends with video games or social media.

Your eyes close and your mind drifts.

Has it been a ordinary day?

Feeling like a failure that you've surrendered your life to the flow of life?

***

Hi my dear, 

I know the ordinary day is coming.

But let me beg.

Let me see your ordinary day. 

To be able to enjoy an ordinary day.

To live an ordinary day.  

The High Priestess

 

What is a myth?

People used to think that lightning was a magical power from the gods. They still believed in lightning as a myth until one day Benjamin Franklin flew a kite and played with lightning. Then people began to realise that lightning is electricity, not, as the myth says, the power of the gods. 

A myth can be something that we cannot yet understand. Like the energy of the universe that flows into signs. And today I read you for the first time. You shuffled the cards I gave you with apathy because you've always glorified logic. 

Card after card came up with a story that I already knew. You seemed to feel that I was making things up. But I had explained the symbols of the tarot cards and how they appeared like your paradoxical life story? Coincidence? 

That day your cards are three queens accompanied by an excruciatingly sharp sword. But my attention is drawn to one mysterious card called The High Priestess. This card always appears in the middle of complicated things. She invites one to look deeper into the subconscious. Things we can't just talk about with logic. 

How can I read you when you are too rational? Every interesting story and word of yours is your subconscious. I'm not saying that they are lies. But the subconscious is your naked self. 

I want to delve into even the worst dreams. I want to see the signs you've always dreamed of. I want to soak in the myths you've built from the shards of your messy life. Then I want to give it all back to you and explain the meaning of The High Priestess card better. Not like when I read you that time. 

At a Crossroads

Do you ever ask where life is heading?

All I know is that life moves on. Leaving the past as memories. Or the shackles of trauma that manifest in my deep sleep. Life keeps going, faster and faster, until I forget to slow down. I don't have time to look right or left. Carrying on today without giving time to realise the meaning of the journey. Has I forgotten to ask where life is heading?

Until one day my journey meets an intersection. Suddenly I remember that life is not always straight. There is doubt, there is fear, is there hope? Someone has just suddenly appeared in my life. He is at the crossroads. Do I have to turn? Can I turn? Because it turns out that my life has been shackled. Because it turns out that his life has also been shackled. And I know that we are no longer alone together. 

I seem to have turned the corner and fallen into his heart. And today he ask me what is love?

Love is the longing when I left you trapped in your fifth floor apartment. Love is regretting why I just met him at this crossroads of life. Then he tell me that my mind is too shallow to call love a sickness. Then what does he call this pain if not a sickness?

Well, I have to be honest that love is his thin smile. Love is the warmth in his arms. Love is the happiness hr give even though he may not realise it. 

If that day comes, which I don't know when, I won't call love a disease. I will call it something else. 

For today let me sing him a song, that will make his heart ache until he die.

“I’d be closer. I’d be stuck in this kind of relationship

At least there are memories can pick

I am lucky to have them or not

Where there is love, not luck”

            

            Waa wei - Someone

On an Encounter

 

What brings you here?

You came in the name of friendship over a pleasant lunch table. Your stories are interesting, but your presence captivates me. If anything needs a reason, I found no reason to meet you in the days that followed. 

Today, we both lie with desire and emptiness. We both want each other but I find bitterness in every peck you throw. My mind asks, what have you been through all this time?

Are you going to let me strip you naked even though we have taken off all our clothes? I want not only the beauty of your body but the large, gaping scars. It's scary, creepy, a reminder of how horrible the past was. I want to feel it with my feelings that have been dulled by logic. 

O sweet thin lips, dance and tell me whatever you want to tell. But if you are tired of dancing, let me see your calm eyes. I know that sometimes there is something that cannot be expressed with language. There are deep things that we never know and make it a mystery. Let me dive deep, to the bottom of your heart, the dark, the cold, the miserable. I want to drown. 

You know, it's so easy to be together in good times. I don't want that ease. So once again, let me hear your tales of woe and make me a submissive. You might laugh, how would a selfish and naive person like me make your stories meaningful? 

Laugh, laugh, mock me until you are satisfied. Strip me naked with my lackness. I want you to do it until you cry on my shoulder and tell me that you have been hurt and it hurts a lot. At that moment, I also want to say, that I am also hurt and can you hold me tighter. 

Hug me so tightly that we forget that there is goodbye in every encounter. 

Our hands are linked together as if we don't want each other to count every second that passes. The feeling is crazy, so pleasant when together, so deadly when apart. Loneliness wrapped around the heart, making it ache senselessly. I feel the same way. You know we are both lonely people. We are a pain in the arse!

Until that day comes.

I want to ask you if you will be ready to get hurt again for the happiness we feel right now?