a bee on my knee

one sweet little bee
sitting on my shaking knee
asking to marry me
to be his wife if i agree
a gift of fancy hive
full of sparkling honey
that will last for life
is his promise to me

so i tell him to flee
cause i' m not a good wife to be
i just want to be free
like a jumping flea
peeing everywhere with glee
here and there
on your head
and on your neck

please don't be sad sweet bee
but you'd better flee
for i don't like brewing coffee
for others but me
not even to a sweet handsome bee
i won't share any
not my coffee
not my tea

but he refuses to flee
and i' m unhappy to see
a bee on my knee
so never blame me
putting you as my top nominee
to be the anonymous dead body
under my feet you'd be
forever be
a dead jolly bee

i wish i could bury you,

the sickle who tears the night sky
and i wish i found you neatly sleep
under peter's tomb
all shall be doomed

to keep you quiet
-in silent mode-
completely mute
as  gentle frozen  dudes

for you know not to whisper
even in your prayers
you be the broken recorders
that chant the sham words of holy papers
kudos for the lordling over yonder

the crowd that slices the moon with sword
and worships it in a piece of shroud

2 a.m coffee

two a.m coffee
repeated shows on tv

the same stories
the old memories

faded pieces of herstory

memories once shared
now belonged to the ignorant night

tears and agony
blended in her coffee

coarse, black, bitterly honest

repetition of thought
went on smoldering for years
deeply buried beneath her fears

twas the time for her
to avow her thought

before another pot
of sorrow
be poured in to her tomorrow's show

for two from one

'tis with thorns i come to thee

a drop of poisoned coffee
sipped from ivy's toxic lips

a spoonful of 'monkshood' stew
for thine spirit to chew

sit still and be fully agree with me
if not be
        permanently my silent enemy
for thy victory is my enmity

ye! skinny!

enjoy this conspicuous conspiracy
the enormities endorsed by my toadies

nay!
no confetti in thine party





note:
one is #Jokowi
two is Prabowo
(indonesia's presidential election)

my poetry is about to leave

my poetry is about to leave
the paper will soon be empty

yet every syllable will forever linger
in the stanzas that hold them together

like chocolate
that holds the almond nuts

i'll keep my poetry well

in the clef of my heart she dwells

prayers and faith
be the sandwich on my plate

it's more than a heartbeat
a complete recital in one single beat

(the poetry that stays in my artery and my misery)

the assassin (2)

the nights bless her soul
grant her power to mock other souls
      she feels water like rivers
       flowing through her fingers
tonight, a pile of papers
will be soaked in blood
       the moon will be the only witness
       of a young heart with a grand lust
       to play god over the living dust
metal rifle, fuzzy trigger
bullets aimed on papers
      hit the ailing hearts
      of the losers
      of the loners

the assassin (1)

cold. as the tomb stone in winter
hungry dagger in her fingers
dancing on the souls, who surrender
to the tip of a pen
             (are words that slice
              the stanzas of life)

thousands of knives
stab into the bluish veins
fountains of blood burst
             (the narration of pains
              in the hand of the assassin
the mighty poet with her pens

dare you change the lines?
of such offense to your mind?