Luxurious is tea,
Detaching from everyone
But not everything—

terima kasih, Abu Marlo beserta para guru di 499 episode Dialogue Positive – you are all blessed!

Not About Others

It is about me
Myself, not about others.
Jump. Spread these wings. Fly.

one of the girls was (like) me in my high school choir 😝 it’s hilarious to remember how our teacher shouted “articulate well! articulate clearly! mouth wide open! breathe correctly! don’t laugh! sing!”😂😘😂

Little Bird

Little bird, dear love,
Telling her to soar then go home
To where her heart is—

Home. Is it a what, a who, a whom, a whose, a which, a when, a where or a how? She knows hers and it doesn’t always the same as others’. 💝

shared rice with a little bird in Cointrin Airport before boarding for Amsterdam then home – a trip worth doing she should repeat 🥰 …

I Slowly Spell Your Name

Though not a true ID,
Your name ships all senses to
An existence.

A name that I spell slowly,
A name representing silence and unattendance,
Almost ignorance.

Your name
A password
To where a gap between real and unreal resides?

Your name
A padlock
With which a visitor busily matches the key?

Your name
Sugar leaf
With which a cup of tea gets sweetened with its dissolving?

Your name
Coffee powder
Which settles at the bottom of a cup after its releasing caffein and acidity?

Your name
A myth
That resembles history?

Tell me
The story of
Your name.

Your name
I slowly spell
Every time
A face flickers
Around this nerve system.

Indeed a name isn’t a true ID. The ID is more than just the given name.

Namamu Kueja Pelan-Pelan by Pusakata

My Notes

I see
In the clarity of evening lake.

I hear
Through the whispering midnight wind.

I touch
In the warm water I splash at the dawn.

I taste
In the green tea I sip in the morning bright.

I smell
In the best lunch of the day.

I feel
In this throbbing heart in the sweet twilight.

Across the ocean:
Name is so real,
Why not

Doraemon, lend me your Dokodemo Door to lock my unpleasant attitudes forever – don’t let hatred ignite hatred in me ☺️

Life Oh Life!

Blessed life, Beloved,
Chains of weeks with good content
Closed with happy ends—



I’ve been curious how many weekends I’ve lived.

Way more than 2000!

Are there more good weekends than not so good ones? After some contemplation the answer is yes! There have been way more good weekends in my life! Thanks to laughter and clumsiness naturally blessed to me.

Hope to live thousands of more healthy weeks and commit to spend them gloriously!

If not given that long? Still enjoy! Or if given too short, negotiate! Don’t disappoint this human being, God. 😶

Rock this weekend!!!

weekend, let’s joke around!!!
Nasi Padang for weekend! 🤤

Whistling Winter

Winter, Beloved,
As white as wishes whistling
Through poems and prayers.

Damascus steel cuts silk. Drips of water punch the rocks. Wind caresses the sands. Breeze sways the twigs and ushers the leaves to land on the ground. Snowflake falls one by one wrapping the ground to doze off. With eloquent silence they make things happen.

How can I say about language ….except that it is as subtly powerful as nature, or even much more with its ability to transform or transmigrate whatever is in the hands, head and heart—

Whistle to me, Winter. These ears are frozen and distant but this soul is as warm and fragrant as jasmine tea.

Monday, thank you for being nice to me. Tuesday, I know you are too. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, be, too.


if only I learnt this language much earlier, I would have sung this song decently 😍

Singapore – Jun. 13, 2022 / 11:02pm


Human, Beloved,
Bruised and scarred, laughter and cry.
Perfect? Humane not—

Nowhere to run from mistakes and errors. The best way is forgiving the self for making (too many) repeated irresponsible decisions and moving right on. Don’t add too many fatal moves; this life has its right to be happy, too.

Nowhere. It is just here and now. Tomorrow might be an elegy.


this guy is a human being. there’s another one I adore even more than this guy simply because he is a human being – salaam

Smooth Not Smoothy

These ears, Beloved,
A pair of love birds in love.
Treble and bass on—

Finding a sanctuary in a breezy evening.

Salaam 😇

a home with smooth jazz is heaven on earth – and silky smooth touch of cold hell of doing some Japanese class homework

Go Jazz

Go jazz, Beloved
Improvise on your own path
Where hidden seeds grow.


Jazz is like secret love, confusing and almost unknown at the first catch but wrapped in harmony through time… and space? Seems space never takes my side. 😎

Jazz each day up!


Java Jazz is on – wish I were it 🎷🎺

to a secret love across the ocean ⭐️

Coming Out of The Dark

Did you see the light
Or the dark? Or both? Or none?
Now you see the light.
the light behind the cloud yesterday. magnificent

Light above light. Layers of light. Spectrum of light. What is light? Is it the radiation? Is it the brightness? Is it the wavelength? Is it the source? Or what?

It is what’s defined but at the same time what is not definable. It is what is seen but at the same time what is not visible.

May all beings be happy.

my sister lent her cassette to me and this song was ever favorite – cassette? what a history, so dark yet beautiful, giving me some enlightenment 😎

Here – May 25, 2022 / 20:15

How Was The Day

After one Monday,
Throw laughter before Tuesday.
Or at least a smile,
That draws a line on a face,
That strengthens steps miles away.


Laughter brings brightness. It carves good mood. It (hopefully) enables longevity.

creative people turn poverty to joy 🙃 slapstick isn’t my favourite but this channel has made me laugh out loud, roll on the floor on one slow Monday.

Amazing Day

Amazing day, Love,
Completing what’s committed
Without supervised

Weekend is amazing with completing a pile of clothes. What a nice closure before Monday.!

Thank you, Life! I love hand washing and ironing. Seriously! As long as it is not a paid job. 💓

Welcome, Monday!

this song is a magic to laundry 😘
amazing day is this! ironed clothes, good help for good sleep 😎
yes, you can!!!!!! 🥹


Life’s misunderstood
As blurred when eyes are cloudy.
Beauty is constant
Not to the eyes. To the heart
It’s a bunch of what’s biutyful.


Observing the observer

Let them misunderstand whatever about your own self as a secret is a secret that will remain mystery to those sleeping or cloudy eyes. If bright eyes can be tricked with a sheet of A4, what will a block of wall do to those cloudy?

Life is biutyful.

my love isn’t romance – no description matches