February 2015

Seem, I'm (not) Miss You

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zklgXvlFrgEyFWRaK5Cv9aN8N8hF7rkaHzLWzCCkVjBoULlA5_sYRIH9JRFJl7tLdwz1LPQ0Fb8JoWA8hF9UNxS1GHBEasnI8LHAcEkg9_cLwIKwRBblNjC6TaHRtI2Ybwc5NbbYW9oQ/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+im+not+missing+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blovespot - poetry - im not missing you" border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zklgXvlFrgEyFWRaK5Cv9aN8N8hF7rkaHzLWzCCkVjBoULlA5_sYRIH9JRFJl7tLdwz1LPQ0Fb8JoWA8hF9UNxS1GHBEasnI8LHAcEkg9_cLwIKwRBblNjC6TaHRtI2Ybwc5NbbYW9oQ/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+im+not+missing+you.jpg" title="blovespot - poetry - im not missing you" width="320" /></a></div>
A maze of confusion. 
No one knows why. 
Wall this wall does not echo anything. 
Day will not change seems. 
Will not change. 
Will not. 
Only boisterous sounding. 
There is no meaning to sound. 
Maybe just boisterous. 
Maybe just verbal. 
 
I do not miss you. 
I swear I did not. 
Every gleaming eyes I forgot. 
Shrieked every laughter tip no. 
Stretching every tongue, I do not feel. 
Calm down, it seems I've not missed. 
Does not seem. 
Absolutely not. 
 
by <a href="http://dkakurnia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dika Kurniawan</a>

Seem, I'm (not) Miss You

A maze of confusion. No one knows why. Wall this wall does not echo anything. Day will not change seems. Will not change. Will not. ...

+ Read more... »

We Swallowing Loneliness

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsihQjPuxt3MqNmpEO-YbIccP997XLBsgIbGFmmR_7eFLOFGzn90nUN0QZONUngvzM1LhoWXPE05gX2UcxuX6bpilS7lPah-PNHNQHcsc7gMGVOf95BnFr2aVwVFLliq0P2mhoMQrb1Qh/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+lonely+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blovespot - poetry - lonely girl" border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsihQjPuxt3MqNmpEO-YbIccP997XLBsgIbGFmmR_7eFLOFGzn90nUN0QZONUngvzM1LhoWXPE05gX2UcxuX6bpilS7lPah-PNHNQHcsc7gMGVOf95BnFr2aVwVFLliq0P2mhoMQrb1Qh/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+lonely+girl.jpg" title="blovespot - poetry - lonely girl" width="320" /></a></div>
So beautiful mouth with cigarettes do you tuck in between two fingers. 
Perhaps the world is not comparable to the bitter jumble the table we ingest alcohol deserted. 
You do not care if some people think we are dirty. 
You do not care about karma because fate has dragged you inside. 
Tonight you never pass the lonely, because noisy with you until morning. 
We highlight the lights occasionally aware that only the tip of the nail. 
We're going to the floor of the dance, to slightly move enjoy music all day and shed our false to the world. 
Early morning is always like this, you and I who have always wanted to swallow deserted. 
 
by <a href="http://dkakurnia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dika Kurniawan</a>

We Swallowing Loneliness

So beautiful mouth with cigarettes do you tuck in between two fingers. Perhaps the world is not comparable to the bitter jumble the table...

+ Read more... »

Women Come Together With Rain

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLzlgFTJpQwIJ183vjsPk6FpDcDKdYJ7b9BoBUVhyyepHMNMrU4rnfcI9ZcjQIb1y5PeNKebvwV7LxcZuHYJQrGH7x4vBtlVeLNzN47tVFZ_rrz45rqn40eFfy-PvFUwk_lHjx0EA09zBS/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+women+in+the+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blovespot - poetry - women in the rain" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLzlgFTJpQwIJ183vjsPk6FpDcDKdYJ7b9BoBUVhyyepHMNMrU4rnfcI9ZcjQIb1y5PeNKebvwV7LxcZuHYJQrGH7x4vBtlVeLNzN47tVFZ_rrz45rqn40eFfy-PvFUwk_lHjx0EA09zBS/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+women+in+the+rain.jpg" title="blovespot - poetry - women in the rain" width="320" /></a></div>
Increasingly lonely hunt, a small step towards a deep step hindered by shadows. The moon was peeking out the window accidentally I open, breezy from the wind coming through the slits. At so there is no concern for his own body. 
Sometimes I hate technology, hunt offhand timeless. Whether work or passing bitch that ring it. 
The moon is right in front of my eyes as I stepped out of the door of my room. Beautiful, half and restless. Yes restless. Fret who'd been poisoning me, until I cursed his own cell phone. I do not know my mind distracted by something. 
........... 
 
Coffee is never as sweet as this, when it rains and you came for the first time, soaking and foreign. I want to ask "have you come along the rain, what you also fall from the sky?" But no, I just looked at him, with an unusual pulse. 
Stall was pretty quiet, while I was in front of him still trying to drain away. His clothes were wet, pale lips as cold has spread in the body. 
"Waiter, make one hot tea please." I said simply, then I drove it for her drink. 
"Sorry miss, this is a hot tea." 
"No, thank you." 
"Why miss? I have no malicious intent to you anyway, I just want to give it." 
"No, thank you. I'm okay." 
"If you do not want to drink it's okay, just handheld course, you already pale fingers probably because of the cold." I watched the tea and put the table near her feet. 
"I'm sorry to bother you." 
"No I don't, it's okay miss." 
"Thank you by the way." 
"You're welcome." 
The rain never harmonizes, my heart beating so as metronome and rain make beats pitched. You, the women who came with your great rain is what makes the rhythm of pounding rain crowded. We talk and become acquainted with one another, her name Citra, and you like to learn to hate twilight and rain. 
"It seems to subside Cit, already can go home." 
"Yup, could return continues to change clothes. Wet all." 
"Cold, pretty much your house. Want to wear my jacket?" 
"Ah no, thanks already bought tea and accompanied by chatting up half of your long pants wet participate." 
"It's okay, really close to my house from here. After all, the jacket will also be returned hahahaha" 
"Really it's okay?" 
"Never mind it's okay, just use .... uh but return it" I joked. 
We exchanged phone numbers and then go home. I think this evening, but I think I see a rainbow. 
 
Sometimes extraordinary love starts from just plain ordinary meeting. 
 
After the incident we so often send each other text messages, talking to and fro, joking and plan our meetings back. The grounds were brought my jacket then I have no reason to see him, yes I will meet him again. Sunday, at 7 pm in a coffeshop. 
"Hi, have long to wait?" 
"Ah not really, I had just sat down." 
You come with long hair neat, short dress blue sea and fresh scents like rose. 
"This coat, once again thank you for last time." 
"Oh well, incidentally also" 
Now we are not talking about the rain, wet, and all the events of that time. We are talking more about each other and great I dare ask about your status. And it turns out you do not have a girlfriend and I'm grateful for it. 
"We can meet again, right? To enjoy a cup of latte again?" 
"Of course, why not." You said with a smile, a smile growing on her drowning. I do not know, I feel claustrophobic, there is something that will explode behind the ribs, mixed happily in love. I know I'm in love, I see everything to be beautiful. Every second of my brain I carve a smile and, increasingly, to describe yourself. I fell in love with you every time I think about you. 
........... 
 
Day of change, the time passed so quickly and we are still two lovebirds who are in love. Day which is always filled with jokes, laughter and love. We are together and we are happy. 
Winds blowing from the east pretty fast, soon summer. Some leaves are visible leaves shed small streets we passed. The road was to be beautiful because not only black but also brown and ocher. You took some pictures and occasionally you show off to me. I, watching you and you seem happy with me. I was too happy to find you. 
"Eh, Cit?" 
"Yes?" 
"I'm..." 
"Hungry? Me too." 
"Well, we're looking to eat. What you Want to eat?" 
"Lasagna! I want lasagna" 
I want to reveal my feelings among the leaves are deciduous leaves that may still be tops when we first met. Do you enjoy your lasagna I harbored feelings. 
 
After that, a lot of time passed and I never again called for the contents of my heart. If anyone says that this is the will of God to be with you I do not deny it, I did not pass on the word I said at that time. It's my fault, it's my stupid. I hypocritical on my own feelings that had almost exploded. It's my fault, now let it go, women who came with the rain that now disappeared. Maybe he yawned by drought and no rain. He who came with rain, which suddenly lost during a long drought. 
 
by <a href="http://dkakurnia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dika Kurniawan</a>

Women Come Together With Rain

Increasingly lonely hunt, a small step towards a deep step hindered by shadows. The moon was peeking out the window accidentally I open, b...

+ Read more... »

Poetry is Tired

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXzGxv_xTkACaSrHtoc_2EMi4cnfgJb35ZK85nZRdV9daxzX059vQoD__QZ908WPKXY-d7D2MUmG78ySs78fH8-IcOW0352SOAZH5bAvk5un5PERDULgeX4mdcaRj3KJr13kOZe7Exrst/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+tired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blovespot - poetry - tired" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXzGxv_xTkACaSrHtoc_2EMi4cnfgJb35ZK85nZRdV9daxzX059vQoD__QZ908WPKXY-d7D2MUmG78ySs78fH8-IcOW0352SOAZH5bAvk5un5PERDULgeX4mdcaRj3KJr13kOZe7Exrst/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+tired.jpg" title="blovespot - poetry - tired" width="320" /></a></div>
It is a poem that tired, which does not know the direction of his temple. 
Collect the rest of the words that were scattered on the head, breaking all sense and logic. 
 
It is a poem that tired, leaning with resignation. 
There was no direction where this will lead poetry, maybe ignorance is now worthwhile. 
 
It is a poem that tired, so tired. I. 
Not illuminated corner is a place to hide from the word that can not jump out of the throat. 
 
Because this poem tired, tired not because life but only silence. Silence like a carcass that just silent. 
 
Let's say I have a carcass, which moves just do not what else to feel. 
My heart rot that is now beginning encroached fucking maggots, then let's just say I do not have it. 
You, young lady with beautiful eyes, do not you bit your head thinking about the start carcasses in isolation? Foreign from the first time to taste everything I have and you leave it alone. 
Miss, I confess, I do not hold you one who ran away from me. My stupid not realize you want to get away from me that is controlled by the ego. 
Miss, please come back and forgive me. Let me reveal a little taste of what I save. 
 
Miss, because this poem tired. I'm tired of waiting for you. 
 
by <a href="http://dkakurnia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dika Kurniawan</a>

Poetry is Tired

It is a poem that tired, which does not know the direction of his temple. Collect the rest of the words that were scattered on the head, ...

+ Read more... »

Such Time

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWvA364mjO6dUC0gEeissIDj4ITat7DJcDq7TgLMAYTiUgYQVI78o1gK9rtgV95Goc8GZIzysmuLfrsTL-eD6CT1_5mjBwBa3wI4_JtGZmLvxjf65I1xCNx4W3KdNNRVumRlevklqqo5o/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blovespot - poetry - morning" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWvA364mjO6dUC0gEeissIDj4ITat7DJcDq7TgLMAYTiUgYQVI78o1gK9rtgV95Goc8GZIzysmuLfrsTL-eD6CT1_5mjBwBa3wI4_JtGZmLvxjf65I1xCNx4W3KdNNRVumRlevklqqo5o/s1600/blovespot+-+poetry+-+morning.jpg" title="blovespot - poetry - morning" width="320" /></a></div>
Do not you want in one morning, when you wake up from your sleep there I could be so soundly asleep because you're next to me? 
Do not you want in one morning, you yell still sleeping because I had to go to work for our lives? 
Do not you want in one morning, you prepare breakfast for our children who do not want to eat before kissed his mother? 
Do not you want in one afternoon, you're at home watching your favorite show and I took time to call you just to say "I love you"? 
Do not you want in one afternoon, you saw me go home with a smile that hope welcomed by you and bring snacks for us to enjoy together? 
Do not you want in one night, after we pray we enjoyed dinner one table that you cook yourself then teach your child to spell? 
Do not you want in one night, I kissed your forehead as an expression of gratitude for the day that you give and you hold me so tight? 
Maybe it was my wish, but do not you want to be with me to enjoy a day like that. 
Know, I love every heartbeat that I strive for every time to enjoy time in the future as it is with you. 
 
by <a href="http://dkakurnia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dika Kurniawan</a>

Such Time

Do not you want in one morning, when you wake up from your sleep there I could be so soundly asleep because you're next to me? Do not...

+ Read more... »

Sorry About

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLCAocWheekl2qqD4ci3Z4jadD2tYDN_pGb5VVaIW42tyDoYv8s1opMv-dCYYwH-P5ULeQj8vu4aeLln7I8XJCSmohkD0rcDsmC5KEmHN_3Q6UZXr9jywaneIFv-XUYCAjYLnVzrtt06Kt/s1600/blovespot+-+sorry+about.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blovespot - poetry - sorry about" border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLCAocWheekl2qqD4ci3Z4jadD2tYDN_pGb5VVaIW42tyDoYv8s1opMv-dCYYwH-P5ULeQj8vu4aeLln7I8XJCSmohkD0rcDsmC5KEmHN_3Q6UZXr9jywaneIFv-XUYCAjYLnVzrtt06Kt/s1600/blovespot+-+sorry+about.gif" title="blovespot - poetry - sorry about" width="320" /></a></div>
Sorry, my heart is dead. 
Apparently because such a love is a lie. 
I sin because I lied. 
I lied to myself. 
That you can live within me. 
Because I was dead. 
Brain and my heart was rotten. 
I just breathe and walk. 
But I was dead. 
 
Sorry, giving injuries. 
Because he is still alive in me and you can not replace it. 
Because I lie has said that I love, but my heart she might. 
Sorry I just gave you the wound. 
Maybe I just turned disappointed, but if not I honestly have pleaded not afford to let go. 
Even if he has to go, but my heart is expecting again. 
 
Thank you, you have been slapped. 
Not with your hand, but you asked. 
Ask who hit me that I have not left it. 
My brain is still no trace his footsteps. 
Not only as a trampling of wet soil, engraved in his footsteps. 
Elapsed time with him was so thin. 
Because I do not find either in my heart or my mind, I find. But I just found it. 
Sorry, I have given you disappointed. 
 
by <a href="http://dkakurnia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dika Kurniawan</a>

Sorry About

Sorry, my heart is dead. Apparently because such a love is a lie. I sin because I lied. I lied to myself. That you can live within me....

+ Read more... »

Subscribe to: Posts ( Atom )