Acceptance

not just agreed upon being naked,
standing stared at each other
we vowed to cut open our chests
read its content with no distress

(revised, nov 7, 09)

© Era Fiyantiningrum

Mistake III

Mistake III
- conte & charcoal

She made one mistake:
through the air wave she revealed the secret
that in her grief she would made painting
ensuring the blood (she) shed would never a waste

"but it was over, i'd been hurt too many times
my heart dried, unable to give any drop of love"

so, when it was cloudy in the day after
he sent thunders onto  her heart, burned her dreams
into ashes. (later, he drew her sketches
with charcoal made from surviving promises
in her sooty scorched heart)

June 4, 2007

© Era Fiyantiningrum

The Couple

==== I've just found this old short story I wrote back in 2000, this one is a repost from The Jakarta Post, 1 Jan 2001 ===

"I'm tired." The woman drinks her orange juice slowly. Her voice has no intonation. Her face does not reflect any particular emotion. In every sense she looks like a stone sculpture. Even the man sitting in front of her has difficulty in knowing whether she is breathing or not.

"It's all over. That's all." She was not furious, but the man felt burnt by her words. The smoke that was getting into his eyes was more than the smoke from his cigarette. Unfortunately, he dared not guess what was causing his vision to become clouded. Because,

On Being a Task Master

the curse of being so high
: ts


you felt silence all around
listened for the slightest sound
hand cupped round your ear
trying desperately to hear

no humming of little tunes
no echo of spoiled fumes
your eyes dim to see the night
looking at the sky for a light

no teasing star sparkling
no more tearing smile coming
your heart filled with grief
striving badly to seek relief

you were loosing the loving arms
you used to comfort yourself with warm
your thoughts was bound, yet still
nothing is around

14 May 2007
© Era Fiyantiningrum

August Alabaster

laki-lakiku dan aku telah memilih jadi urban;
tinggal di liang tikus bersama kecoa serta
kalajengking, berharap taman kota tidak dibangun
di atas tempat itu sebab keindahan untuk semua
berarti kami harus mengangkut kardus-kardus
pergi lalu menghadapi kengerian makin berbiak
di tempat lain, di manapun letaknya.

meski begitu di sana tidak ada kelaparan;
kami menanak kutu busuk, lahap menyantapnya
dengan lauk otak para demonstran atau seniman
yang terpikat imajinasi mereka sendiri
tentang hidup miskin yang bersahaja. Eksotisme:
ramai-ramai mereka terperosok ke pangkuan kami.
Mati.

demikianlah hidup merupakan remeh temeh menyenangkan;
kami belajar untuk tidak punya cemburu-selera-
harapan-atau apa saja, sebagaimana kami mencoba
kebal terhadap perubahan cuaca-mutasi genetik-
racun lipan-juga penyakit kelamin. Segalanya tenang:
angka penanggalan tetap berganti tanpa perlu
diperhatikan. Kami memang tidak menghitung apa-apa.

gsstf 15-17 Augustus 1995

==== catatan: ini puisi tahun jebot, nemu di laci meja... kalok nggak salah dimuatnya di Surabaya Post, satu hari minggu bulan September 1995 ... well, kalok salah, ya paling-paling bulan Oktober tahun yang sama ====

© Era Fiyantiningrum

Serenade for the City*, 10

dering telepon, program radio, iklan tv.
mereka yang mengganggu lelapmu. bukan mataku.
lagipula kamu toh harus terjaga, ayo kita teruskan
menahan usia digerus daftar perjalanan, jadual acara,
keinginan melupakan dingin-lapar pernah begitu pekat,
keinginan melupakan rindu-benci pernah begitu dekat

ayo teruskan, menjaga tiap tegukan tetap terasa
meski kamu terlumat jua dalam sesaknya gelombang udara
: cangkir kopi kita tak pernah ada

===============

sekeloa/14/x/94

tatakapuri/2/viii/09

===============

© Era Fiyantiningrum
* serenade for the city adlh nama satu acara radio KLCBS, Bandung (94)

Trifling Matters

==== ==== ====(FB Version) Notes: Aku unggah ini untuk Hendri, the only real person I use for character in this short story, a person who "disappear" some eleven years ago and his "lost" had inspired me to write this during the chaotic days of 98'.
Geez, I wrote fiction. Any similarity to the characters, events, and places was a mere accidental and you could read this at your own risk. EF 2009)==== ==== ====

My blood stopped flowing for seconds when the lightening sparked and I saw silhouette of a man peeping through the stained glass wall of the foyer. He moved to the door and after the thunder ceased, I could hear him knocking.

I hurried to open the door. Fumbling with the novel I had been reading, I struggled to hold the door open in the wind, “Yes?”

“Is this Mmmm... Mot... Mo,” he groped around his pockets, took a wet note outside, tried to read blurred words, “…Mo ... Momit’s home?”

(another triviality, eh)

Those who prevail there:

the stories they tell – no one buys
the rhythm they hum – no one plays
(the footsteps they print – no one traces)

Yet, those we forget, those we forbade
Still yet, those we mourn over, those we wound

The myriad…

==== seingatku ditulis akhir 2008 di Situ Babakan bersama Mike Marginal, Juzac Sundoy (sa bisa gila trada pinang!), dan Mujib Hermani. Versi aslinya lebih panjang, yang ini dipotong hanya upload bagian awalnya aja, especially buat sg karena tak ada urek-urek lain yg bisa kukabarkan dalam waktu singkat===

© Era Fiyantiningrum