does not come

from the help of things

that live in the sky, I say,

it comes from those that

are damned by the world

we lepers, we are the ones worthy of giving pardon

we are real, and we are vengeful

we have been stepped on

we have been spat on

and we will have our revenge


we will destroy you; but not today


Oh me


The words of The Lord; timeless and frank

It was His flesh I ate, and His blood I drank

It is He, who exists before and after time

It is He, who rewards good and punishes crime

It is He, whose might is worthy of boast

It is He, whom I long for the most


Because of His words, I am saved from idle slumber

And now my thoughts cease to be clouded any longer

From deep in slumber I awake in blood and tears

To the thundering sounds that my heart rarely hears


His words, his voice, they penetrate into my soul

My body is now safe, and my spirit is now whole


I am not afraid, I am fearful no longer

For I have Him, and He is my anchor

the problem with low skool

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heaven is my baby

the problem with low skool lies in the way the walls hear but never listen, in the way the floor fibs but still loved anyway. the problem with low skool lies in the way it reminds me of the church, but also hospital, and my dear dean does of god, but also all the care i could not afford.

ask not what you can give; ask what you can receive. that should be it, or so i thought. it’s just because i got nothing left to detach from myself. not a piece of smile, not even a wave of hi. i am not speaking to you. the problem with low skool lies in all the claims how you are better than them, where i am neither you nor them. i swear– the problem with low skool lies in the monarch of intellect, and how i live under the bridge in…

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There was nothing there, and there is nothing here.

It took me away to another place, the ringing I heard in my ears, it took me away to another place. It came out of nowhere, I can’t recall in what part of this room it started to shriek into my ears, but I could recall how it feels like on my skin. It was forcing me to open my eyes, I wanted to keep my eyes closed, afraid of seeing the very thing waiting to scream at me with its glaring eyes. But I awoke in another place.

There was nothing there, and there is nothing here. It was only fear, the emotion that I’ve tried run away from all this time. And so I try to hide in a place with no hiding places, but it found me and it butchered my mind.

Then I remembered that it was almost that time of the year. A time of contemplation, a period of suffering in order to let go of my self to higher powers. Maybe that trip through fear was an example of such surrendering.

May God save our souls, may God protect us from the evil which resides in all of us.


is it still called living when all you think of is dying?
the preachers preach of death all the time,
and they’re more alive than i am
is it still called living when all you think of is dying?
the cockroaches roam around greasy floors,
eating off the leftover crumbs you throw away,
and they’re more alive than i am
is it still called living when all you think of is dying?
men and women, young and old, all around me,
and i’m afraid that i’ll always disappoint them,
because they’re always more alive than i am
is it called death when you keep suffering to yourself?


Ketakutan itu nyata. Terimalah kenyataan itu. Ketakutan kita pada kesengsaraan yang mengintai-intai itu nyata, dan akan selalu nyata. Setiap tarikan nafas kita di dunia ini menghembuskan bau pesing, dan bau busuk itu akan selalu menyeruak saat kita enggan jujur bahwa kita takut pada kesengsaraan. Di setiap sudut kehidupan kita ada jurang-jurang yang menunggu manusia untuk terjatuh ke dalamnya. Kesengsaraan tidak berakhir saat kita terpelanting ke dalam jurang-jurang penuh sesak itu, lalu mengapa kita tidak langsung saja melemparkan diri ke dalam kesengsaraan? Aku tidak menunggu kesialan datang menghampiriku, tapi akulah yang berlari pada marabahaya, kira-kira begitu kata Cioran. Ia tidak pernah, dan tidak pernah mau pula, untuk menghindar, untuk lari dari kesengsaraan, untuk lari dari kepastian yang barang tentu kita alami di kehidupan ini.

Ada yang lari terpontang-panting saat marabahaya datang kepadanya, namun ada yang berani untuk menghampirinya sebelum ia dapat merayap mendekatinya. Ada banyak yang mencoba mengusirnya, menolaknya, melawannya, dan banyak yang mati sia-sia karenanya. Seperti ternak yang matanya terbelalak menatap kilauan pisau jagal, mereka membeku di muka marabahaya, ketakutan dan kelemahan merasuki sanubari mereka. Itulah naluri kebinatangan kita, itulah yang kita warisi dari moyang kita yang tidak beradab itu. Kita hanya diberi pilihan untuk mundur atau bertahan, ini memang sudah nasib kita sebagai manusia. Kadang-kadang menjadi binatang, dan kadang-kadang menjadi binatang lemah. Ketakutan memang menanarkan, namun untuk apa memelihara kelemahan?