Iridescent Alvrose

Di kehidupan modern ini, makin hari, dunia makin kehilangan sisi puitisnya. Segala hal terkatakan dengan lugas, ringkas. “ Love ya, babe ,” atau bahkan “ILY” menjadi ihwal familier di antara sepasang kekasih untuk mengungkapkan cintanya. Hambar, membosankan, dan sama sekali tidak mewakili perasaan—jika perasaan itu benar ada. Paling tidak, itu bagiku. Pada esensinya, cinta harus diungkapkan dengan sekuat tenaga. Kau akan lebih mudah mengenalinya jika itu terejawantah dalam tindakan. Namun, jika itu ucapan, oh dear , “ILY” saja tidak cukup. Semua orang—bahkan yang tidak saling cinta—pun bisa mengatakannya.      Dua ratus tiga puluh tahun lalu, seorang pujangga Skotlandia, Robert Burns, menyampaikan perasaannya dengan sangat elok. Itu termaktub dalam manuskrip puisinya yang berjudul A Red, Red Rose. Aku teringat ini saat memutar playlist lamaku di Spotify. Bertengger di sana sebuah lagu berjudul My Love Is Like a Red Red Rose yang pada dasarnya merupakan puisi Robert Burns yang dilaguka

Pic Source: Salome Sally Dari matanya, ia menyaksikan semuanya. Kebajikan buatan yang berada dalam satu tubuh bersama kebusukan manusia. Besi berkarat yang dibalut emas dengan celah-celah yang kelihatan 'maksa'. Karena kenapa? Karena ia tahu sekaligus muak, melihat orang yang merasa dirinya 'baik', sementara justru hal itulah yang membuatnya hina. Apakah pernah terpikirkan olehmu bahwa semua yang kita lihat sekarang bukanlah yang sebenarnya terjadi? Apakah pernah terpikirkan olehmu bahwasanya jauh melampaui apa yang bisa dijangkau pandanganmu, terdapat sekat yang memisahkan antara asumsi dan realita? Maksudku, realita yang benar-benar realita. Bukan yang kamu yakin kamu tahu. Bukan yang kamu pikir kamu tahu. Tapi yang hanya para omnisien yang tahu. Bagaimana jika semua ini merupakan sebuah permainan? Paling tidak, dalam skala kecil, seseorang sedang mempermainkan kita. Seseorang yang hanya sedang bosan dengan kestagnanan pola tingkah laku manusia. S

Pic Source: Shin Kwang Ho   Honestly I just don't understand the concept. Some people have kind of privilege to do wrong, to say wrong. Including to say wrong statements about us, totally wrong ones. But the funny thing is that we do not have any right to say it is wrong. We must not correct them, even for telling those statements they made were incorrect. It is sternly prohibited, by a particular law we officially believe. A law that runs in our veins, brought by blood from generations to generations. Again, it is prohibited. We cannot criticize this law or you will be burnt in hell. And we cannot also criticize 'these zealots', because, I don't know. We just can't. Or if you insist, everyone would call you a rebel. An obstinate, insubordinate rebel. Everyone will hate you. Your friends. Your families. And in the end you will hate yourself. Fact dies, you fell, and nobody cares about you. So what's the point of right and wrong? What's th

Is it only me? It feels weird. Sometimes I don't feel lonely though I was obviously alone. My mind was full of thoughts clouded over, unbearably loud, I could feel philosophers' soul in my bones. But at some other times I feel so lonely though I was among millions people around. Just like now. A bunch of them are there, around me. But I just don't know what to do, even what to think about. All things exist are people and this cacophony. This world is messy. And I think I could not stand another day. Sometimes it feels empty inside and all people around me say I need to throw my headphones away and  come closer to God, our only God. But perhaps I feel too disappointed by things in my whole life till I don't know what else I should do. You know what I mean, right? What and who disappoint me. After all, no one can explain to me why this world's so messy. Or is it me who's messy? No one can decide. And the most hellish of all is that no one thinks

Say something to the breezing wind and the pouring rain To the cloudy skies and the dewy terrain Would those choices come back to greet me for the second time? Though I know they have already gone and never going to be offered to me again Even if your flooding tears becoming legend in history of men I know there is nothing anymore can be mend This disequilibrium, has always been sorrows that have no end Malang, 22 Desember 2018 with Green Day's songs in my headphones Pict. source

Some people get their living from their kindness They have eager intention to help others They work with their heart and have many admirers Some people get their living from their cleverness They can easily do this and that Achieve anything they want right on the hand Some people are hard workers They can stay up all days and nights without slumber Like there is a strong connection between their obsession and body system Some people are just nothing Not because they do nothing But that is how life works Some people are pushed by their fate too hard Though they have done everything They still get nothing Yet (?) ----------------------------------------- Alvi Rosyidah  @alvrose_ Pic:  Dingyiyi Artwork

A place where the piano recite With the cuckoo on branches alight Deep she feels overexcite For it was a starry lovely night Staring at the light on the furthest sight Oh, she knows, it is her satellite An out of reach gallant knight Who lived for a long-lasting delight Oh, she always loves that sort of requite Where the earth and blurry sky reunite She is standing upright and feels alright For she knows, What she wants is a soothing winter twilight -------------------------------------- Alvi Rosyidah @alvrose_ Pic source:  :)

Once upon a time There was a boy who has attempted crime Not a big one, but everyone kept saying it’s still a ‘crime’ They ignored him during schooltime Left him as his soul was full of grime He fell to the bottom of hell with nowhere to climb He felt only darkness in the daytime And saw nothing at the night time People were passing by, overlooked his existence Time did the same, neglecting his inconvenience But one didn’t do the same He watched the incident and call him showing His benevolence The boy ran quickly as he heard His voice He stumbled and fell upon His hands He gave the boy reassurance He let the boy cried and screamed and vented He cherished him tightly and patted his shoulders As He wanted him to always remember His kindness Every time he falls down Every time from the world he’s being thrown Alvi Rosyidah Malang, August 2018   Pic Source: Pascal Campion Art

There is a feeling When you feel tired and don't wanna be anything When you try your best but tomorrow seems unclear When you left your responsibilities and just wanna rest Longing for shoulders while nothing to caress There is a time When you hardly believe that you're really alive With those lofty dreams struggling to survive With the imbalance haunt you anytime Ready to kill and blow your hopes away Yes, you know and everyone knows I'm not a brilliant poet nor a pretty glows I'm only a wretch seeking for a gist A gist that can help me see clearly in the mist A gist that can help me find a peace ~~~~~~ Alvi Rosyidah 💐 @alvrose_  *Picture : Thomas Kinkade Art

Oh please honey don't you cry There's still a silver line in the sky Oh please honey don't be shy For ahead be like summer in July Waking up the sun have you tried Ask her to soothe your soul far deep inside Calming your love as high as tide Knowing that the bonds will never collide Savour all moments as it's a splendid ravine Explore the future as you're the queen Live as lively as seventeen I hope your sprightliness will be evergreen ~~~ Dedicated to every of you, Whose a very special day, today. 💐 ~~~ With love, ☕ Alvi Rosyidah @alvrose_

  Bahkan jika kau memanggilku kembali Takkan ada tatapan penuh arti Bahkan jika kau melambaikan jemarimu lagi Takkan ada senyuman yang akan menghiasi Bahkan jika kau menghampiriku kembali Takkan ada ucapan yang kemudian berarti Pergilah.. Dan jangan pernah kembali. Terlalu buruk luka ini untuk disayat lagi.