08567552747

last nite i w as feel in gsa d

so i texted a great poet

i said :

                                              dear goD

do you think, if
i havent really suffered
if

basically

                                                          ive lived a spoiled
and                          TOTALLY


       pampered life

is there still a chance that sometimes
at least

i could still write good poetry ?

and hE said no.

No my child
as with anything in lifE

there are prerequisites :

like two heads in the oven
or a noose hanging
off a wooden beam

a chair kicked over into the corner of a room
those are the ideal
asia weevils
plaths

you need those

but who would want those my child

wouldnt you just want to be dr williams
dead of a recurring stroke
that pushed his weelchair
into a bush
of crimson cyclamen

he, pushed over
headfirst ?

leave dying alone
at a stinking hospital bed at tangiers
both yr legs cut off at the knees

leave greatness
to the real Gods

to the Rimbauds of the world
to the Rambos of the world

remember how in First Blood Part Un
he had to chisel a bullet
out of his arm
with a hunting knife ?

you want that ?

no you dont
believe mE

you wouldnt want that kind of lifE
greatness is overrated
believe mE

An(n)a Kar(en)ina*

kau orang sunda, bahasamu seperti burung bernyanyi di pucuk angsana
pohon penyembuh segala, masih tersisa satu di pojok kota tua
ingatkah dulu waktu kita sering nongkrong di pinggir molenvliet
mengenang rimbaud dan sepatu yang lepas kulitnya, liburan di pusuk buhit
di sini kita hanya punya gunung salak, senja di beranda dengan budak setia
saudara saudaraku suka meloncat dari prau, menyulut menyan di klenteng naga
bersyukur pada maktjouw poo, semoga daganganku laku
laut cina selatan penuh marabahaya, perjalanan pulang penuh leliku
lebih baik menetap di sini saja, bapakku kapiten cina bercambang
tarik pajak dari rumah judi tenabang, opium den di luar batang
kuharap walau kau membaptisku dengan nama eropah
kau tetap tatahlah itu tembok dengan satu n saja, di sebelahnya hati tertembus panah



* pour Edo Wallad

Their City Jakarta*

* aeons ago i joined the Asia Blogging Network when they promised me free space on their 'My City Blogging Channel' to write whatever i wanted about jakarta. whatever ! my city ! ha ! the followings are writings i did for them that they subsequently unilaterally without any prior or after the fact notification took off the blog and labeled 'private', true stories about this city that you proles can never ever read. until now :

Private: no time 4 verse
Oleh mikael_johani January 14th, 2008 pukul 12:14 pm

manymoonsagoafterpitchersofheinekenandplatesoftacosatchilisstadium! cheapesexorbitantnomineralwaterthreehourslater: therooftopof mangga besar!

a tiny room with a 10-inch polytron, prayermatscoveredinimentoswrappers, t h   e n     e       on G L   O R    Y rimbaud had not the chance to see.*

*arthur rimbaud visited batavia in early august-early december 1876 as an enlister in the dutch colonial army.


Private: radit hearts jani not
Oleh mikael_johani January 14th, 2008 pukul 12:06 pm

in the year 2058 people will ask:

whatever happened to janis leopard print boots?

how could anyone decipher vino gs glottal shouts?

the green velvet seats in the second hand japanese buses look pretty though

and the early morning sunshine on faharanis face as she thought of

future ice cream dates at dilapidated cikini bodega hang outs

—free wi fi

makes you think

this city is all sweetness and lite

when theres no desire left in you

to stand up and fight.


Private: bermain layang layang di taman kompleks penuh kambing kambing kecil mencari makan di hari pertama 2008
Oleh mikael_johani January 14th, 2008 pukul 11:54 am

benang gelas diulurkan

damai dikuburkan


- the rest of the writings i did for them, that they deemed public enough !, fuckin police state !, you can still enjoy here, arent i nice still linking them, handing them more traffic they dont deserve and when theyve for all intents and purposes put the brakes on me !

everyone else has had more sex than me ooo ooo

i was walking along a canal in 2003 and i saw a poster for 'morrissey live in concert' plastered at the back of a gondola, and that was the first time i realised 'live' is just evil spelled backwards.

i was reading badai pasti berlalu two weeks ago and i got to page 343 and i thought yes, but when?

i was listening to sandie shaw the other day, her singing a song morrissey wrote for her 'please help the cause against loneliness', and i was thinking the song was released in 1988, how much money has she raised by now?

i was in the moshpit at a flaming lips concert the soft bulletin tour with grown men and women in bunny suits balloons unlimited supply of acid and i was thinking the mere concept of this spectacle is too heavy for superman to lift.

i was on top of monas one day and i looked out towards the direction of your house and i thought if could still see the curvature of the earth then at least that means i have not grown too disillusioned with life. yet.

i was listening to the smiths' asleep and i was thinking this song is not funny like all the others, 'there is a better place, there must be ...', really, moz?

i was reading rimbaud one morning and i thought perhaps if you never told me that poets only earn 3000 dollars a year (if that!) i would never have left you to become one.

CANTO CXVIII (I FORGET THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS)

in medias what res ?

'i am happiest when i follow
how things sound.' —

im startin to get
       patterns tics repetitions
       the ferris wheel

               off yr mind

i get
       you cherry
             cherry
             cola
       i get
             you lil raccoon
                                    of my hearth

in 1876 Rimbaud set sail for Java
    in August Batavia
                         flayed his boots along Molenvliet
                         jogged along Weltevreden
                         on the Kwitang Bridge:
                               Jules et Jacques debated the latest fashion in womens hats

Rue de la Paix

The Opéra were in their last run of (do more research)

Do you read
these things
lil raccoon
of my hearth ?

a lil bit of Marjorie
          a dash of Hugh
                   a decade of pattern-making

in early Dec. R. got the first merchant ship out
            Ireland!
                you know why

NO-ONE cd hack the south bound procession of Casteel Batavia
         
            Imagine me
            w/out you

the gangrene has seeped into my crotch

c'est pour toi
DIONUSOS
let the bacchae

burn myrrh all nite long

KNOW what YOU want to DO

i wanna paint the sky-wide cloud
          red
             the red of yr labia (PANTONE do more research)

i want to be Catherine the Great
          trail my train across the blood-red snow

No one misses you
'cept Remus
one teat less to suck
(sure youve put that
into consideration)

Regardez toi!
          thats what I tell myself
                   (not to do)

Ive never ever tried to write Paradise
          Oublié moi!

          In 1928 a bunch of louts descended into
          the capital and decided on a lingua
          franca strange

          Something simple and malleable
          for the (forget—do more research) grammata
          common market-man Malay!

          no c no j no v no x no u no you

'tis hopeless when I try to write Paradiso
          like you me the rest of this
          cunt tree

                   in 1945 a couple of louts in muslin declared
          independence in real time and a mangy dog walked across the first
          state-sanctioned
          photo-op

Someone wore a suit bespoked out of old curtains
a jodhpurs cut off above the knees

Do you know the mythologoi simulacra simulacrae simulacri of this
our belovéd
cunt tree

Lil raccoon of my hearth ?  

Do ya read
me ?

In 1965 a river of blood
               "     "     "  heads
               "     "     "  body parts (random)
               "     "     "  i dont give a fuck anymore its boring

lacking the moral fibre
of the average persons brain

[see lil raccoon of my heart im now sittin in a pizzeria somewhere at the back of my mind next to me the three Magi (Chinois) theyre debatin the eco-friendliness of screen printin vs digital the image of choice wd be the standard portraits of Bung dan Bing Soekarno-Hatta]

Imagine that
          lil big raccoon of my hearth !

    in 2008 forget it
a rickshaw driver who was

DISAPPEARED

in 1996 leaves still
traces in the sand

Ishikoro!

Do ya read
          moi ?

My heart broke when I saw yr last
            YM! status why do ya

in 2009 pretend a general election
           will ignore primary results
           and go str8 up the caucus

Oublié libre seduis-moi!