I looked closely at your face veil decorated with purple, lightning-fast kuteringat republic wistful face. You really sweet, as well as gemah ripah republic jinawi loh. But your presence like the wind, can not be caught with five fingers. So now I lead penghayatanku always with feeling sore, and stretched the distance between us, further away from Sabang to Merauke
Never kupertanyakan, why are we late to meet, as well as the ever regret why I was not born in the era of Bung Karno. What
I want to hear the speech the proclaimer of burning, as I wanted only
me who can close your fence, lock the doors and windows of your room,
lit lanterns to assert night have been published, also permeates the
whole of your course straight and sincerely, to birth a plain piece of poetry and sacred
Piece of poetry has always reminded me of a silent singing, dancing and lonely. Then kuresapi silent creeping in nerves. Concentrated sovereign as the poem engraved on the sky. Piece of poetry has always led me to question the nature of goodness back. What is the good? True goodness never yawn, not shrinkage, may not fade?
To be honest we never bring mutual distances and differences. Sorry I did not bring it when your staring at the horizon. Not on the horizon will always be a star falling before dawn, and we were given the opportunity to mix dreams. Raciklah your dreams disappear before the end of the light
Beloved, I wish we could're always together. Have
not I always been infatuated with your lips that curl, which describes
the wound lips nation of Papua, and you know exactly how your eyes
always put me to sleep. The look is not your fathers lament the gloomy Bandung, also your voice is not singing a tornado. I was possessed by the dance-you are more powerful than an earthquake or a volcanic eruption, an avid greeting realm Archipelago
You're right, God and poetry can bring us back, though not absolute, but it may be the last meeting sekekal-eternal. Then
clear the mirror and inter-city bus terminal, also selarik prayer never
complained, someday lead us to the aisle made of clouds in the sky. When it float, the world belongs only to us. Neighbors are goats conge, and friends naughty enough so mosquitoes. Let
berpagutan before burying the entire season sky ever birth, also
without having to wait for lawmakers said they would truly repentant
I have to go, but hopefully true God and poetry will bring us back. I had to take care of my house that breed in the ridge times and rail. I had to clean the streets from protesters paid. I shall ensure that no member of the House of Representatives actually set up a company demonstration
There's
got to pengengupinganku, a celebrity vent in cyberspace, and
condemnation of the thief, and immediately conjure up television content
so gripping, but the other day, television in tears to mourn the
earthquake that hit streak. This is how? Just close your eyes, and feel with all your soul: the question reverberating in your heart, is not it?
That's origins date we should quits. I believe, along the southern shore shouted waves, homesickness among us will seharu-blue soap opera. Allow
kusunting the glittering rainbow arched eye brows you, for gifts for my
mother, who will celebrate Mother's Day, as well as to
kulaburkan-lipped nature more intelligent comment on the officials who
curse
Arch your eyebrows, shading the sun and the moon that controls feelings or feeling pair shrinkage. Down a bit: Lip-mu is a sculpture of Michael Angelo. To the bottom again, I do not have enough words to describe the beauty that you MELIKI there
I
have to go, then I ask do you sell your private parts at a price that
was too low, as the clergy begged God not to exchange verses with
balance. Remember that Moses also said, do not you turn away and ally in worshiping false gods
Do not turn away when I went looking for a poem. Poem that will bring us back. This
time I'm pretty sure, the poem will be so worth it though will not be
able to burn the capitol occupied rats and wolves, also not be able to
bring down a president who only sell their own complaint
This is the portrait of your face, railroads were breech and sluices are oversized. Floods and flash floods passengers, came surging, so the mascara on your eyelids. Salon passion plus-plus applying your red lips. You're actually beautiful and interesting, but your body always falls into the lap of thieves.
In the terminal you rotate, the station you're crushed. Cheer your old self, erased by nan chaotic traffic jams, and a lonely furrows in the forehead and cheeks were sunken increasingly
The days of your brawl marred the Grass Market against Rawajelawe Menteng residents. In Manggarai, students shook hands with stone and wood, hone racing accomplishments with a dagger. The book describes their report cards, will continue berlahiran generation who like criss-cross, elbow-elbow, razor-shave, and are reluctant to share
You proceeded to stalk moderniasi, but temper your left purists. One night, the town created an uproar, when a wagon rolled without a driver. They say, the devil has sent to menyatroni ghost town
Indeed, the city has dididuki ghosts that haunt at the State Palace, and in Senayan. The ghosts had been in the shower. Also not ghosts had penetrated into the whole soul?
Look, you're not unlike the distributed demagogic speeches from the podium Palace. You sound like a rambling sentences that came from Senayan. You're like a ripe fruit that bloom in the plains of Queen Farah. Millions of viewers could only shake his head. You're too far away to embraced. The distance between us, unbridgeable
Since bored pooled in Cipinang downstream tried further east, then retreating at Coffee Cottage. But at the cottage coffee, there is no true silence. Chills and confusion continues menderas, dipancarsiarkan Pandora's box of butt avid officials lied. So I went back to the old nature, so enduring a restless refugees visited every stopover. Armed toa and hammer, I boarded the train that harbored a history of injuries. Many times I crossed Jatinegara. For calls.Jatinegara,
the old station which was also carrying his destiny, since the first
power is plugged in, and VOC corrupt a quick pass on the way, also
circumcise budget with brilliant technique. So now you are together cockroach gasping levy rice crumbs, only able to become a butterfly night jet. You will not get a ration of feed that has been guaranteed by law. Sovereignty sanctioned missing your wrath and flash floodsI boasted offer poetry and sovereignty promised the essentials. I said about the rights of the people are robbed and the restive Papuans. I told her about the New Order conspiracy and entrepreneurs Freeport, the assassination of John F. Kennedy and the ouster of Bung Karno. I
said, O you who are torn and frayed, which betrayed the collectors
sound, yell to your knees that pengupingan no longer enough to be
entertained with tales of the leaders of the mushy, but arbitraryI kept screaming, but unrequited-reply. I asked, not parried. I called, even ridiculed. Soon I realized,once
again retreat at Coffee Cottage, was in line with a lecture orasiku
only the cleric vying role in the television comedy, as fond of money,
in which only the mothers in uniform are being mustami. One business market share remembrance was troubled womenIn Jatinegara, I met Ronggowarsito. As with junior devout, I beg wisdom. "Dear Poet, read your poems!""Long before Moses took the oath in Tursina, religious and young women, has always been a lucrative commodity. Since the Company to build Jatinegara, officials and criminals, a friend who often change places. And since Julius served the emperor, the state no longer needs the poems, the poets should be hanged! "
An old station Dutch heritage, nature never changes, nor increased facilities. Commerce only rely on tofu and tomato crops, even though the president has repeatedly fallen. Until
you finally realize also, people often buy a cat in a sack: a president
who turns the most mushy in the history of the republic, just because
he looks like a Kelud mountain graceful, as well as selective and
diligent expert to divide the cake
Dude, you have to speak out. You have to say a word. Because silence is a sin. Silent sign to agree. My ears are open to all injuries. Why the spill is always complaining. Why does the president always scared to death
Nobody spoke eloquently. Just loud protests echoed in the empty room. Also
in one day at 10 am, when the people of the country recalcitrant fire,
belching black smoke from the mouth and ears, berbanjar besieged the
station, and put your wrist on the tracks. A lok containing rotting corpses, crushing hand vain, that came out was euphoric: "Yippee, we've maimed arm. We can now officially be beggars. So reinforcements for the liars! "
Shouted
the people of the land of fire recalcitrant, hobbled sleeveless, called
and invited as well as zombies Lapindo mudflow victims, simultaneously
pushed towards the capital. Increased in the followers of the various corners. Each
village shard crossed, sent representatives to the eyeball that has
been taken out next, half cut ears, trunk legs slashed up the calf, to
incarnate the most destitute and surrounded the palace with the roar of
melancholy: Sir, we do not eat, do not give us the bullet!
Ear power, more often alpha. Even
until the end, at a ripe afternoon by despair, a young man jumped from
the carriage in the direction of the muzzle palace, and wrote poetry in
his body with flames. Pause a moment of silence while. Billions of butterflies dancing in a puddle of emotion, representing the heavens mourn. Children
goats bleating in the barren desert, he shouted absorbed eternal
silence, and chirping birds give testimony about the rulers who always
ask for mercy, always thirsty victims
Dude, the palace did not budge either, though the lives wallowing collapsed in front of his nose? They have been blind, deaf, mute again, and will not return to the way it was
