Iceberg

For all the cold and contrary women out there; know that you are still -- surviving well.

Abort ship would naturally be the most

immediate response to those on board who knew,

It’s easier when you’re in the comfort of popped corn,

cushions, and not being in another’s shoe,

With all the best answers tucked in store

for the all problems that will never be aimed at you.

Jacks and Roses may come in many scripts,

however how I’m the Iceberg here can’t ring any true.

I was never allowed to melt, ignore ignore,

I am my own anchor, feet glued to the floor,

Underneath all this, I knew there’s something more

Destined to be larger than what you give me credit for

But inanimate objects are not one to flee and soar

A shelter I bore for those willing to explore

But who would bother to dive for one hell of a sore?

For all is already referenced in the NatGeo pictures you’d tore,

and the Happy Feet penguins above you prefer to adore.

Perhaps, in our cracks and partings, we were written

to bump in one another like never before.

To those who objects, do file your complaints

if you ever find this story’s actual author

for all these twists and carves were never mine to conjure.

No one like a girl with rough edges, no room

for those behind a happy household's door.

My characteristics is a bond tighter, the makings of a killer

But these are the things that I have never asked for.

I never meant to get in anyone’s way but,

as you can see, I was given no means to turn.

Provided a role; for without it there would be

no story to capitalize, and no lessons to learn.

I thought I auditioned to be the navigating waves,

perhaps harsh weathers made me stern.

The Titanic was idyllic, but it would just be

another passing ship
without our fated
spurn.

Maruti's Graduation Speech

A long time ago, in a quaint city, far far away...
EPISODE IV
A NEW HOPE

It is now a period of uncertainty,
Whether surrounded by beers, rebelling peers, and clouds of smokes,
or oranges in the winter under the warmth of your home, kotatsu, and loved folks.

Together, we too have managed to UNITE.
(Do excuse, these Indonesian Week references that pulses through us)
To gather in living rooms,
to gossip and mock common frenemies,
Hidden, then forgotten, but still well in sight.

To better our friendships,
In kanpais and cheap grilled meats
faltering otsukares, now broke from uchiages,
and personal hansekais as hobbies on the side -
Words now used too often, back home
It may sound more like the menu read out loud
instead of ways for us to fire up and ignite.

Together, here we are now,
poured straight in deadlines,
dripping down in word counts,
bleeding in caffeine,
 a sugar rush stirred through the night.

Drenched in Beppu’s worst,
we still stand tall as a pride
No need for umbrellas, stolen and broken,
To face all the surprises
these storms and blizzards could hide
In any weather now, we can now survive in might
Pushing one another off the cliffs to take flight
As come nears the end of the mark
to the strings of our kite

As much as we would choose to hold on tight
Strings fray to sway without knowing which way is right
Singe lessons, a scar on our edges,
as we dare to go unarmed to nearing suns, stars, and futures that are too bright


Some strings shall tangle,
though most shall part,
as fate shall mingle with the desires of our hearts.
...At farewells like these, where should I even start?

Dare not to get attached for we wish to soar,
Dancing, singing, screaming for an encore,
Our backs and throats have yet to sore,
As Gaga drummed his way up again and again
to year four

Dare not to bid adieu for goodbyes are a bore
This steaming city have rooted itself deep in our core
Cute ojisans and obasans as sweet as the hearts they`d pour
Along with the cute - sadly - mormons knocking at our door,
And the cute little kids running around campus
Asking about our favorite color
All whom some of us would choose to dodge and ignore

Till now though, my curiosity have yet to meet Beppuwan`s wild boar
But troubles are only troubles, big as they are, when your mind wishes to enstore.

We will not have this later on in our journey, Beppu
In all of its tiny details of rustic glory, youthful gore, and galore.
It all indeed has been a swell ride; dare we ask for more?
Thank you all, for being a friend.

Student Hall, APU
October 2018
Farewell Batch 30 - 31

Starfish

There are nights where I’d grab a handful of pills, 

and I’d dare myself to swallow.

There are nights where I did, though not tonight, 

for the menu is a fistful of suck-it-ups stuck down my throat to wallow.

Though on those few nights where I did, I found out that your whole body can go against its owner for not having a say in all this.

My heart leads with an unstoppable solo, my brain cells whined as a choir, and all the joints frantically danced the pain they feel away, reminding me of its function’s bliss.

There are nights where I’d slam myself to every surface, 

hitting myself to this heart’s haywire ballad once more.

On these nights, they blindfold me from the inside.

All of the brain cells in charge were tied up 

and what’s left is yet another surviving dance you’d rather ignore.

My body rages on its own on behalf of the bottled things I couldn’t say, for I was too afraid to do so when my insides begged me to run away.

Before matters get worst, 

and other triggers are pulled. 

For up above, it’s all a playwright rehearsed 

and down here I beat myself up for a lack of standing ovation, 

the threads I can’t change, all tangled and mulled.

And there are nights like tonight, 

where I light six incenses, not less not more, 

for all the ties, scripts, and plans that they have tore.

I’d try to explain myself to everyone and everything out there that’s willing to hear me out when others won’t; pray like I’ve never before.

I’d apologize that this is was my last resort, but to those who have watched over me all this time I’ve come for a long overdue report.

I wonder if their same eyes are as clouded by those down here in age, enraged. I wonder if they are as fair as what I’ve been thought, listening tentatively, filing my case word to word - page to page.

I wonder some more, 

and I daze off mid-prayer 

on to the nights where I’d feel saner, and I’d wager some more.

There are nights instead. where I’m just a starfish, 

wishing I was at a temperature lower, cooler than this heat, 

under a prettier and deeper sea.

I see my grandma doing this a lot after grandpa was gone,
and I wonder if this is what life does to you

when you act as if you’re too strong to be broken down.

You survive with the act

and the picture perfect frame pose they’d want to see.

You close your eyes, lay in bed, where your insides’ a ruckus of yet another ambush of your organs’ band rehearsal, but you make no sound.

These are nights where I’d just a write a poem like this, 

wishing for things to wash away on shore, 

and in the sands, you and me, both the same starfish,

Contemplating in one place, together once more.

Equality didn't ask you to fight like a man.

Equality didn't ask you to fight like a man.
Yes, we women are constantly dissatisfied, we are our lipsticks, all red in your eyes despite the millions of impactful shades.
Bloodthirsty red for both a job and a date afterwards a promising bed, satin finish to seal a kiss, & maybe even dark blue because you are allowed to be you.
Mauve, rose, & peaches; we foreshadow endings in each undertone, piercing softly with the elegance of our time blessed blades.
Confusing you for the better, covering up the parts that matter, with a cheeky tendency to over complicate.
Those whom are backwards thump their bare chests like our primal origins, 
While the slightest reveal of our delicate bloom puts them to knees, curls them in sins.
We daughters resemble mothers regardless of our forms, ever so capable in brewing storms.

Equality didn't ask you to fight like a man.
How does one benefit from keeping an expired sense of masculinity,
while gone are the days of heartwarmingly picturesque chivalry?
We knock on doors for a conversation, but some doors just won't budge.
We want equality not for ourselves, so that even men can break without looking weak, 
A promise that none shall judge.


Equality didn’t ask you to fight like a man.
We women are not of the reckless forest fire they are, we slowly engulf, drowning you, in a tsunami.
Though we can wreck havoc, we cradle all in our care, fit and flow wherever we want calmly.
We tuck sinking ships and treasures away from the burns of his reach, & 
Our every step gleams in the mystery of a magician ever so rookie.
We don’t succumb but we also shouldn't wail like ransacked banshees on and on about our misery.
We are women, we should not rip ourselves wide open -
Over shared for cheap like an air filled bag of potato chips in a party.

Don’t blow your ancestors’ cover, of batik & carefully tailored kebaya,
 They too have always been fighting for all that is unfair
They let them dig & let them mine, but know who's in control...
He'd always scour for more since there is more to us that will never be theirs
We are made of every gem & priceless chemical compositions of our own, unique genetics heired
A sacred temple that stands tall of indescribable colors only labeled as your name, 
ready to shelter all the wounded hearts that would fall.

And bid goodbye to those who have tried but will never shatter you, 
Fight like the woman you are till all is flushed and smeared by the shade love 
Instead of our history of bloodshed that taints an ocean worth of morose blue.

Puisi Imlekan Nan Spontan

Tidak jarang kulit ini dianggap kurang halus, cerah, dan bermerk,
untuk izin orang tua mereka dalam siapa yang berhak dijadikan teman.

Jadi buat apa diri ini menulis tentang imlek,
jika sungguh aku tidak peduli
dan sudah biasa ditelantarkan oleh sahabat yang merayakan.

Jika diri ini seharian belum tidur dijalan pulang melewati imigrasi China yang kurang sopan,
dan yang ada bukannya ide melainkan belek yang terbuang
seperti memori akan sakit hati yang ia mungkin tak rasakan.

Bagai angkot tak berkenek dan resepsi tak berhidangan, bagai ketek tak bertangan, mesin ketik tanpa calon sastrawan; bagaimana diri ini menulis tentang imlek yang berkesan jika mata susah melek dan yang ada hanya kekesalan?

Ya jadi jelek sih kalo dipaksakan...

Tapi nyatanya puisi ini pun mandiri, mengalir terus dengan sendiri, dengan malu berlabuh dan mengaku kepada sungai SARA dan Iri — Sudahlah Mar, lepaskan sajalah ini!

Nyatanya masih banyak sahabat lain yang dengan santainya melihat kearah kiri, dan menerima diriku apa adanya lengkap dengan semua pertanyaan bodohku sesabar SIRI.

Bulan sudah dipetik menjadi kue yang sedang duduk manis ditengah membaranya api.
Merah meriah berkoar seperti mereka yang berjejer merona mirip amplop angpao yang dinanti.
Kembangnya yang mekar dan layu bersamaan tak bisa direka kembali... habis nasibnya dilangit untuk sekedar menghiasi.
....Yah, jadinya harus beli lagi.

Ini perayaan akan semua yang hanya sementara,
Mereka datang, akrab berbincang, makan senang, minum goyang, kemudian berbaris pulang.
Menjadi sahabat demi sahabat yang sedari TKpun selalu terganti.
Berputar, jungkir balik penuh semangat bagai barongsai yang setelah itu kabur jatuh terengah-engah dibalik sepi.
Terbit bagai matahari tahun baru yang membutakan berkah tanpa pamrih kemudian sadar bahwa penonton tertidur malas dan memilih untuk bersembunyi.

“Dasar anjing tanah!” adalah kutukan tersering ibuku disaat marah.
Tepat untuk kamu dan tahun menahun penuh rintangan ini, sahabat,
Tetapi dengan puisi ini olehmu perayaan Imlekku tak lagi ternodai.
Karena anjingpun setia, hadir untuk disayang dan perlahan melipir untuk dikenang.
Dan semoga dengan kehangatan dan cerianya, tahun anjing kita kali ini membawa tenang.


Happy Chinese New Year!

(Puisi ini ditulis sesuka hati di tengah hiruk pikuk bandara Hong Kong, 16 Februari 2016.)