pIcIsAn

My photo
I write a lot. Every seconds, every hours, every day, every month. But I realize you won't come back.

2010-11-20

kalau Mei Ling Lesbian?

                                                             saya pilih London walau apa pn yang terjadi.


Mei Ling normal,
punya pacar bermata sepet,
tapi satu hari,
dia rasa cinta sudah terbang.

terfikir,
mama tentu tidak akan syak,
jika dia lesbian,
malah dianggap mulia,
kerna sering menghabiskan diri bersama gedik sekalian.


boleh keluar dengan gembira,
tidak perlu risau mama marah - marah,
mesti dia lega,
tiada lelaki bersama.


"mama, Mei Ling tidur rumah London[bukan nama sebenar]",
mesti mama benarkan,
ala,
kawan perempuan,
tidak apa.


padahal itu teman wanita Mei Ling,
sering berkucupan asmara,
menghabiskan masa memadu cinta.


Mei Ling nak potong rambut pendek,
nampak maskulin,
gagah,
macho,
baru sepadan jalan dengan London.


satu masa,
mama tanya,
" bila mahu kahwin, aiya, tarak ada boypren ka?"
Mei Ling terkedu,
kahwin?,


"Ma, Mei Ling lesbian. Anti lelaki. mau kahwin ngn London boleh? dia model. hot. superb.boleh la."
patut kah Mei Ling cakap begitu?,
patutkah?,
rumit.
perasaan memang rumit.


patutkah Mei Ling jadi lesbian?...

2010-11-12

Redup Hari Berteman Angin Sepoi - Sepoi Mesra

Impian apabila Mei Ling sudah berkeluarga:


1. Mahu berkelah bersama Ah Chai dan anak - anak, Sofia dan anak lelaki [belum kenalpasti nama mahu diberi]. Memakai topi ala -ala orang ke pantai dan dress bunga - bunga. Melihat anak -anak berlari di padang dipenuhi bunga-bunga kecil sambil makan bersuapan bersama Ah Chai. Angin pula menderu tenang membawa bisikan lembut rahmat. Ah, bahagianya andai dapat bersama - sama tersenyum diulit cinta!.







2. Mahu anak - anak comel. mungkin lelaki dan perempuan. mungkin kembar lelaki. Mampukah?. Ye, Sofia, mama datang ni. Nak susu la tu nangis - nangis. Haha.





 3. Rumah dalam taman. Mei Ling seorang yang agak melankolik. Sepertinya rumah ini mampu menenangkan jiwa yang sedang kusut. [ Tapi Ah Chai mahu kondominium yang dibawahnya ada kolam renang. Senang lah nanti nak mengintai mana - mana gediks yang mahu menjual badan].






4. Masih mahu kelihatan panas dan kurus seperti Adriana Lima selepas kelahiran Sofia dan anak lelaki.



atau seperti Keira Knightley.


Ya, itu impian Mei Ling.

2010-11-05

Hari Ini Bukan Untuk Kau Lagi

semalam Mei Ling tersedar,
sudah tiba masanya,
untuk meninggalkan semua detik - detik itu.


Mei Ling kena berusaha,
menaik tarafkan diri menjadi gadis yang bermaruah,
tidak mudah diperlonjong - lonjongkan lagi.


dia fikir jika terus menjadi pengintip,
cinta Mr If akan kembali terbang,
memberi hati yang tulus,
membentuk harapan indah.


jelas,
bukan Mei Ling yang dia harapkan lagi,
mahukan lagi,
bukan,
bukan Mei Ling.


seperti menyusun kata - kata Scrabble,
telah Mei Ling lakukan semuanya,
menggabungkan semua perkataan,
yang mampu memberi markah tertinggi,
dalam jiwa Mr If.


Cuma,
semalam hari Mei Ling,
hari Mei Ling genap menambah satu lagi angka dalam usia,
buatlah dia seperti dalam awangan,
tapi,
apa yang telah kau lakukan, Mr If,
" bateri saya lemah. nanti dah balik saya text awak"
hingga ke angka 12 memasuki 4 November,
tidak,
satu pun pesanan tidak Mei Ling terima.


mengapa tidak perjelas sahaja?,
kau tidak mahu dia menelefon,
mengapa?,
perlukah kau menabur janji,
yang kadangkala membuat jiwa insan - insan seperti Mei Ling,
bertambah duka.


itu hari dia,
berilah peluang untuk dia bergedik - gedik,
beri saja la,
hari itu saja dia boleh berbuat begitu.


tak apa la,
memang Mei Ling saja yang terhegeh - hegeh,
mengada - ngada,
jalang pun dia,
tidak mengapa,
dia jadi begitu pun,
atas dasar pernyataaan,
kau orang yang paling dia cinta, Mr If.


kenyataan:
kau berjanji seperti meludah air haram ke mukanya. Mahu tidak mahu terpaksa terima kerana ia sudah terpalit di wajah itu. Natijahnya, dia membersihkannya dengan deruan air mata yang satu hari nanti kau akan menyesal kerana mengiizinkan ia keluar hari ini.

2010-11-03

3 November 1991 - 3 November 2010



sudah 19 tahun rupanya aku berkelana dalam dunia ini.


semakin menjangkau usia.

cuba menjadi matang.


seiring dengan masa yang semakin berlalu.


aku bukan mahukan kek mahupun hadiah.


cuma bersyukur andai dikelilingi orang - orang kesayangan.


ya,


bersyukur masih diberi peluang menyambut hari ini.


semoga semua yang didoakan menjadi kenyataan.


terima kasih.

2010-11-01

Cinderella. hah!



You always read about it:
The plumber with twelve children
Who wins the Irish Sweepstakes.
From toilets to riches.
That story.

Or the nursemaid,
Some luscious sweet from Denmark
Who captures the oldest son’s heart.
From diapers to Dior.
That story.

Or a mikman who serves wealthy,
Eggs, cream, butter, yogurt, milk,
The white truck like an ambulance
Who goes into real estate
And makes a pile.
From homogenized to martinis at lunch.

Or the charwoman
Who is on the bus when it cracks up
And collects enough from the insurance.
From mops to Bonwit Teller.
That story.

Once
The wife of a rich man was on her deathbed
And she said to her daughter Cinderella:
Be devout. Be good. Then I will smile
Down from heaven in the seam of a cloud.
The man took another wife who had
Two daughters, pretty enough
But with hearts like blackjacks.
Cinderella was their maid.
She slept on the sooty hearth each night
And walked around looking like Al Jolson.
Her father brought presents home from town,
Jewels and gowns for the other women
But the twig of a tree for Cinderella.
She planted that twig on her mother’s grave
And it grew to a tree where a white dove sat.
Whenever she wished for anything the dove
Would drop it like an egg upon the ground.
The bird is important, my dears, so heed him.

Next came the ball, as you all know.
It was a marriage market.
The prince was looking for a wife.
All but Cinderella were preparing
And gussying up for the big event.
Cinderella begged to go too.
Her stepmother threw a dish of lentils
Into the cinders and said: Pick them
Up in an hour and you shall go.
The white dove brought all his friends;
All the warm wings of the fatherland came,
 And picked up the lentils in a jiffy.
No, Cinderella, said the stepmother,
You have no clothes and cannot dance.
That’s the way with stepmothers.

Cinderella went to the tree at the grave
And cried forth like a gospel singer:
Mama! Mama! My turtledove,
Send me to the prince’s ball!
The bird dropped down a golden dress
And delicate little gold slippers.
Rather a large package for a simple bird.
So she went. Which is no surprise.
Her stepmother and sisters didn’t
Recognize her without her cinder face
And the prince took her hand on the spot
And danced with no other the whole day.

As nightfall came she thought she’d
Better get home. The prince walked her home
And she disappeared into the pigeon house
And although the prince took an axe and broke
It open she was gone. Back to  her cinders.
These events repeated themselves for three days.
however on the third day the prince
Covered the palace steps with cobbler’s wax
And Cinderella’s gold shoe stuck upon it.
Now he would find whom the shoe fit
And find his strange dancing girl for keeps.
He went to their house and the two sisters
Were delighted because they had lovely feet.
The eldest went into a room to try the slipper on
But her big toe got in the way so she simply
Sliced it off and put on the slipper.
The prince rode away with her until the white dove
Told him to look at the blood pouring forth.
That is the way with amputations.
They don’t just heal up like a wish.
The other sister cut off her heel
But the blood told as blood will.
The prince was getting tired.

He began to feel like a shoe salesman.
But he gave it one last try.
This time Cinderella fit into the shoe
Like a love letter into its envelope.

At the wedding ceremony
The two sisters came to curry favor
And the white dove pecked their eyes out.
Two hollow spots were left
Like soup spoons.

Cinderella and the prince
Lived, they say, happily ever after,
Like two dolls in a museum case
Never bothered by diapers or dust,
Never arguing over the timing of an egg,
Never telling the same story twice,
Never getting a middle – aged spread,
Their darling smiles pasted on for eternity
Regular Bobbsey Twins.
That story.

Anne Sexton                                -1970