"Writers & Poets" as dreamy idealists.

(Dah lama tak tulis dan masih kekok dengan layout baru).

I had to run away from whatever that was. And man, I was depressed. Easily emotionally affected by the situations around me (as usual).

Withdrawing from the depression, still.

So I suppose it is best to sought back to things we used to know. Things that I suppose are safe. Not at all a comfort zone, but when you go out there and they differ so much. Or rather, you tend to put a high expectation on a certain something and it just proves the opposite.

I suppose it is equivalent to the value of money. If you produce too much of it, the value decreases.

The same. All the same.

And I am reminded of days when I doubt poetry and its connotations. But when there are too much of 'poetry' going on, you just know the beauty of it fades.

Like pretty girls. And each of us talks of wanting to be different.

In the first place, who constitutes poetry? Sure 'Art' is vague.

And the difference between people who are doing it for money and the passion of it. Those differ too, and it shows.

This is the real world I reckon, even in literature. And I thought writers & poets ("writers & poets" really) were dreamy idealists.

Thanks for reminding me that there's no 'real' escape from the real world I suppose. And reminding me of personal preferences.

Dan -

Dan di kala
   awanan bertukar
          jingga -

di kala yang
   lelah mengejar dunia -

di kala
   riuh beralih
   di ruang masa,

     pasti semua pulang
       mencari keseimbangan.

  Mencari sesuatu
   yang menenangkan.

  Mencari cinta
   di dalam dakapan.

Dan bila
  kegelapan
     menjadi nyata -
       
   bisikan mengada-ngada; 

alpa meronta-ronta; 

tidur/jaga si pujangga.

Apa
  mungkin dalam gelap,
  lagi meraba-raba?

Lagi pinginkan cahaya.

Tapi
   sejurus kembali
    cahaya,
     
    si alpa menjadi nyata;
 
si pujangga
     menjadi riuh
       dunia. 

Cahaya meraih
    kegelapan
dan
    kegelapan meraih
        cahaya - 

tapi semuanya,
    pasti pulang - 

        bukan?

The Year That Was

3 tahun lepas, tulis ni.

3 tahun kemudian, 

is all I need to be reminded of,

day by day.

Oh, transition!

#ArkibJiwa

Teaser untuk buku puisi sulung #ArkibJiwa
yang akan diterbitkan pada masa yang terdekat.

Motivasi melonjak apabila mendapat

respon yang sangat tinggi hari ini,

terima kasih kepada Wardina Saffiyah 

yang RT kami siang tadi

(masih starstruck).

Apa lagi?

Like Arkib Jiwa di Facebook

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Emel ArkibJiwa di Gmail

Bismilliahirahmanirahim!

Apa itu #ArkibJiwa?

Iklan redundant.
Tapi jemput ke laman Facebook, Twitter atau emel.

And wish me luck.

And I could write a book, the one they'll say that shook the world.
And then it took, it took back from me.

You belong with me,
not swallowed in the sea.

Psikobebel

Sudah berkali aku kembali mencari gali - arkib jiwa.

Bertimbun yang ku ketemui isi hati - cinta hati.

Projek lama-lama tak mula-mula lagi!

Wait for it guys.

Selain merindui yang jauh dari mata,

nothing new really other than

newly mundane routines.

For old time's sakes.

I forgot this song existed. How silly!

This is what's up!

AHHHH! Beyond, beyond happy.
Thank you cinta hati!

Happy 1st year! :)

InsyaAllah until time is inexistent.

8/4 (2)

And on your existential inquisitions,

we collided.

8/4

When it is mend, I miss the breaking.

7/4

A suffering from one night may lead to a thousand poetry.

Pink Tutus.

Start and spread with Glad tidings.

Fundamentals first, fundamentals.

On Existential Inquisitions.

Don't look too far

on the outside --

look into yourself.

The endless landscapes

of your inner being.

Who?

How?

Why?

and

When?

Lost emptiness.

I woke up with an amplified feeling of 'missing something'. The buzzing London in particular and the solitude feeling while being mobile.

I miss the days feeling like I belong in London in search of something, or someone.

Maybe I miss the feeling of emptiness, if that makes any sense at all.

Goodbye, Ms Nadrah!

Last day of work last Friday and the kids gave me this.

I'm gonna miss the kids driving the adults crazy.

(Untitled)

Hold your tongue;

if the words to

be out of your lips

paint Nothingness.

Of not being;

and dwelling in there.

Of pseudo conscious

and conscience.

And plastic

tranquility.

Hold your love;

if you think this

may be,

For your existential

inquisitions.

For hearts aren't

thinking faculties.

But love

means meaning,

as meaning be.

Deliberate harm to the soul.

Like pouring emptiness into a cup once filled with tranquility.

Ghuraba (Strangers).

If every creation has its creator,

every writing its author,

every plan its plotter,

every design its designer,

- then what about you,

my young traveller?

Yang pilu.

Taken by Agfa Supersolina, at Pulau Pangkor

Katakan,

aku ketandusan inspirasi.

Dengan kebisuan,

sunyi sepi.

Katakan,

aku hanyut.

Dengan kerenah kehidupan,

kau berpaut.

Katakan,

kelu lidah aku.

Dengan gelap gelita,

dan jalan berliku.

Katakan,

kerana seusia dulu,

inspirasi aku,

kamu.

Yang diam terpaku.