What if I told you
There is a different way to live:
No LinkedIn posts
No late night emails
No podcast hustles
No online surveils
Just wake up in the morning and
Smell the roses, watch the sky
Walk the beach, and feel the sand
Sift beneath your feet and sigh
In gratitude for this one life
Go on: you now hold the knife.
#630 Tentang Hukum Alam Bersilat
Kala tuan di tampuk kuasa
Julang nama dicanang-canang
Kala jatuh ditimpa tangga
Nama carik ditikam terjang
Ini hukum alam bersilat
Ada naik ada jatuhnya
Lumrah dunia berputar ligat
Usah muram mengenang duka.
#625 Tentang Keengganan
Kalau inilah yang dikatakan
Arus perdana jalur pemikiran
Bangsa yang megah mangaku tuan
Adab nilai lapuk tersadai
Menang sorak maruah tergadai
Maka aku lebih rela dipencilkan
Sepak terajang tak kuhiraukan
Hilai tawa tak kuendahkan
Lenanglah engkau dengan harta dan kuasa
Aku enggan berkubang sama.
#616 Tentang Jaguh Yang Takkan Termaghrib
Kau bertarung, melawan garang
Deru taufan kau sanggah tegas
Namun serang bertubi datang
Denting wahyu meragut deras
Usah sedan mengenang nasib
Engkau jaguh tiada termaghrib.
#611 On That Box of Chocolates
Life is like a box of
Chocolates.
Most times, you get something
Nice and sweet.
Occasionally, what you get is
Just about okay.
And every now and then,
Every piece in the box
That you thought would be nice
Turns out to be
Curdled poop.
#609 On Marching Ahead Through the Brambles
In resignation, we march onwards through
The brambles of uncertain fortunes. Ahead,
The knives are sharpened for the slaughter.
Around us, the terrifying din of mirthful laughter.
But we hold our heads up high, without dread.
The grim truth is that Death prunes life anew.
#608 On Your Turgid Vessel, Now Cleft Asunder
Here you are, abandoned, stranded
Your hopes now fallen to the ground
Barely breathing: drowned, defeated
Your ardent dreams, once skyward bound
Have all defected: sad, bereft
Buried under tortured ground
Your turgid vessel jilted, cleft:
There is nothing, nothing left.
#583 On This Portapotty Existence
Glassy-eyed, we walk past these corridors,
Chasing numbers across our yawning days.
A hamster’s hunt through the glass doors
Of swanky corporate offices, scurrying past
Our portapotty cubicles, our diurnal homes,
Like defeated castle gnomes, downcast,
Eking out one final groan, one final chase.
What kind of life is this? Who made this so?
How did we submit to this existence?
We who are made in His image, we who know
Better - we who are mirrors reflecting His Magnificence?
#581 On The Game That Was Lost
What was the meaning
Of all that strife? We were bound
To lose from the start.
#503 On The Unsheathed Sword
You shirk the task with nonchalant reply
This menial duty far beneath your grace
And so I take it on myself to try
The task dispatched away with heedful haste
No pointing blame, but this I shall remark
My sword, unsheathed, awaits the next lit spark.