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Showing posts with label Reza Anggriyashati. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reza Anggriyashati. Show all posts

Metaphor (Reza)

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Posted by Reza Anggriyashati Adara | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2009 | Posted in

Wind breezes gently from the south, caressing any object, dancing on its steady abstract tempo. Mortals could see nothing but wondering its beauty, imagining its long eternal journey, and counting how many lives that it had touched.

A leaf steadily fell from its tree, following the nature's music which was composed by wind. It has performed its task to give life to the tree and dropped to the ground with dignity of its short but beneficial life.

A tiny ant was running frantically on the concrete, driving by its natural instinct to find either food or nest. It seemed having no fear to step gigantic world with its micro feet. I wished I had little bit its gut to step the world. But I was too coward with my giant body while it was too brave with its micro body.

Concrete was staying still on its stillness, ignored by any living creatures which stepped on it. I wished I knew what it felt, thought, and story that it secretly kept for so long, about lives that had passed above it.

Butterfly wanders alone, leading by its instinct to find another nectar, attracting any creatures with its vigorous beauty, leaving envy feeling to any creatures who was condemned to live their entire life without light beautiful wings that it had. I was one of those creatures who secretly kept that envy feeling, condemning my own incapability to fly.

Maya

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Posted by Reza Anggriyashati Adara | Posted on Thursday, January 15, 2009 | Posted in ,

“We experience dream as real because it is real…”

William Dement

“Those were vivid nightmares. In there, I was usually being tied up with rusty police-like handcuffs to the bed that was covered with dirty bloodstained sheet. Strange, stroking smell of anesthetic drugs dominated the moldy air like you used to smell in abandoned basement. I remembered, there was always sound of constant dropping water…not…not smoothing ones as the spring, but it was such sound from leaking tap, which could drive you to silent insanity.”

Tes…

Tes…

Tes…

Suddenly, the dropping water sound came alive. I looked around Dr. Karan’s office to find its damned source. No wastafel. No leaking freaking tap. So where did those maddening sound come from?

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Poetry

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Posted by Reza Anggriyashati Adara | Posted on Saturday, December 06, 2008 | Posted in ,

implicitly they say,
if you saw children dying in hunger
"close your eyes"
if you saw injustice in everywhere,
"Close your eyes"

we live in the world of ignorance
stop to be innocence
but pretend that you some care
so you dont have to be shame

believe nothing but wealth
it buys anything even truth
turn black into white
turn liar into noble one

Talking to Angel

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Posted by Creating Class 2005 | Posted on Tuesday, December 02, 2008 | Posted in

There was an angel.

He was standing under a dying tree in middle of an abandon grassy yard. Afternoon sun gave a perfect glance of him, an unhandsome old man with almost bald gray hair. The wind breezed his dreary dirty shattered wings, a type which you wouldn’t ever see at immaculate Christmas’s postcard image.

But I knew he is an angel. His feet didn’t touch dry and cloaked soil under him. Instead, he could be perfectly portrayed as vague resemblance from Rembrandt’s painting than real flesh and blood substances like me. And I knew he was an angel because my heart said so, and what you could ever believe more? Mind, no way. It would only give you a full non-sense things which intoxicating those so-called materialists.

“Like her.” I murmured unconsciously. I didn’t know why but sometimes I couldn’t control myself.

He gave me his toothless smile as I moved toward him. He talked, with universal language, which didn’t have to be uttered. But you would understand it instantly because your heart, the very trusted part of your soul, said so. Hitherto I decided to pause my indefatigable journey of search of the truth to talk to him.

“I was lost”

“From what?” asked me, with mortal language, which had to be uttered since my mortal nature hindered me from not doing so.

“ A battle”

“What battle?”

“Of her soul.” Then he cried, with tears that you wish you wouldn’t ever see or imagine, in the rest of your sinner days.

I instantly felt some kind guilt, the one that you felt after you yelled at your parents or hurt someone you loved the most. I didn’t know why, but I assumed it was simply because he was an angel, the most sacred being after God himself. I hoped you would nod to my statement if you also believed in them.

I asked him again, “Who’s she and why you cried?” Instead of answering my question, he asked me to walk with him. I, who was charmed by his uncanny irresistible charisma, can’t resist his invitation. He seemed able providing my agitated search of answer of the real truth; one, which made me, couldn’t rest even for a while.

In the middle of our journey, we meet cavemen who wear nothing but scattered animal’s leather in their bodies. They were worshipping a giant stone and chanting words, which I couldn’t interpret. Then the thunder suddenly flashed and shattered a giant tree into two pieces. The thunder shocked them and but after few moments, they turned worshipping the torn giant tree.

I sighed with disgust feeling toward them, “Huh, morons. How dumb they are? Why they worship things that wouldn’t grant anything? Why they are very easily enchanted by any power?”

I thought The Angel would agree, or at least nod to my statement but I was shocked when he said that I was no better than those cave people. I, with my self-centered mortal proud, rejected his opinion, “Absolutely, I was better than them. Unlike those cavemen, I am worshipping monotheist God or also known as your own Boss.”

“But don’t you think they are resembling who you were in your early days?” He revealed solemnly. “They are in restless infant search of God, believing anything or anyone.” I was double stunned, not only because of his words but also some annoying memory of mine.

The sun shone brightly as if it would burn anything under its shine. I, who was captivated by his power asking, “Are you God?” No reply.

Then a cockroach mesmerized me with its disgusting so-called wings.
“Or you” I pointed the big cockroach under kitchen’s table. No reply.
Thus, I realized that I could save myself from the burn sun above me and I could kill the cockroach in few second. So…

“Or me” I pointed myself.

No reply.

Then I decided to worship myself. Ha.

“Before you become very self righteous like those so called fundamentalists, let us continue our walk and you can decide who’s better then.” Said The Angel.
After that we continued our walk until reaching the border of abandons land and city. I immediately warned him, “Don’t go to the city, the place was burned out with the inner hell.”

He only gave me a beatific smile instead of an uttered language. Again, I guessed he wanted me to follow him first.
I chose to follow him first.

We arrived at the Islamic clergy elementary school in the suburban area. The class was already started; students were listening their teacher with full-adored attention. “There is no God besides Allah, and Mohammed is His prophet.” Said teacher. My memory wandered to my own childhood days in clergy school.
“When you did naughty things, you will suddenly enter hell, the place of eternal fire where sinners become its fuel.” Said my teacher. His words rose hair at nape of my neck. Then I asked him back, “What we should do to avoid hell?” He answered with solemn voice, “Don’t do naughty things and prayed to Allah all the time.”

I was praying five times to avoid hell.
I was fasting in Ramadan only for releasing my body from hell.
No reply. But I was still worshiping God.

The angel grinned; I thought he was reading my own self-sin confession. I felt little bit embarrassed. But the Angel said that I was not the only one who felt like that. Hell is not only a horrifying but also captivating word. Most of people, prayed to God in order to avoid Hell alone.

But, was it the only core of worshipping?

Was it wrong?

How about love toward God?

How about you?

Is it God who captivating you to His shrine or his eternal fire where your full of sin body will be its eternal fuel?

I guessed no one could give us exact answer besides the Angel and of course, God himself since He is the source of all knowledge. Then I turned to Angel next me for exact answer. But I was wrong, instead answering my question; he just smiled and said that I was the only one who could answer my own restless question. Human is the most self-denying creature. No matter how perfect the answer it was, human would always seek another one and perceive what they consider as the most fitted one for them and not the truth.

Again, I was tormented by the truth. But, did he really tell the truth? My humanly egotistical feeling forced me to deny it.

Then we continued our journey until we arrived at the gate of university. Again, he shed his tears. I, who was confused by his attitude, asked him the reason behind his tears. He said that university was the place where human starts to reject God by assuming that they are already finding ultimate knowledge of everything.

“Like Her.”

“Was it wrong? Was it human’s mission to find ultimate knowledge of everything?” Asked me.

“No, there was nothing wrong about it but the arrogance was the down side. When human starts to feel they are already being the source of knowledge, they begin to be shame about believing God. They begin to separate faith from everything, as if talking about God is only one level polite than talking about enjoying carnal activity with Parisian Prostitute.” He uttered briefly.

O, don’t remind me about those days. It tortured me a lot.

“Nietzsche said that God is dead.” Said I in the front of lecturers.
No, he is still alive.

“God is only kind of opium which making society in the high stone of frantic waiting toward afterlife.”

But I am waiting for that.

“Therefore we should separate frantic belief of God in our pure minded college”
But I do believe in God like Peter Pan with his belief to fairies.

I do.
I do.

“I do believe in God.” I murmured unconsciously. Again.
“Yes, you do. She did that too.” He answered my unconscious murmur with full attention, “But you chose to pretend as if you didn’t. You knew it was very not intellectual for valedictorian like you to believe in such myth called God.”
Again, he ripped me for the truth and I am tortured as well embarrassed with my inner self. But I preferred to deny it because it was easier than accepting who really I am.

I do.

“Like Her.”

Another stop was Internet café, the new restless shrine of modern human. People starred at the computer’s screen with full attention, some giggling and some expressing their horny face. The Angel was stand still. We talked no more but watching them.

After few seconds, The Angel asked me with sounds like an archaic question, “I couldn’t understand but wonder why so called modern human built it.”

“It is new stage of modern communication, human could cut the distance and communicate easily with other people in every part of earth. Internet makes the world becoming smaller, faster, and more efficient.” I answered with kind of proud toward Internet, the best human’s invention ever.

But he grinned instead of admiring, “Don’t you think Internet is kind of oxymoron. When human say that they build new stage of communication, they also cut the real communication at same time. They are so called virtually talking to people. Frantically believing that they had find so-called friends in empty non-exist world. They are modern human who denying God but looking elsewhere to find substitute. In the end, they find nothing but empty life, like you.”

“Like Her.”

“Don’t you think, God is also kind of modern communication, an oxymoron. When I prayed to God, I felt like talking in private chatting room which giving me nothing but empty reply.” I answered him with full rage, which I didn’t understand where it came from.

He answered my question somberly, “You know you already got the answer from God himself. But you chose to be deaf, blind, and mute as if nothing had happened. Then you asked to God about why He didn’t reply your prayers. But in fact, he did.”

“Are you God?” I asked ‘Das Capital’.

“Or you?” I pointed Adam Smith.

“Or you, are you God?” I frantically asked my own laptop.

“Where’s God?” I shouted out loud to dark cloudy sky upon me.

Then my heart said with very calm voice, almost silent, “He is here, near you, very near with you.” Sorry, but I heard nothing.
No reply.

A hollow in my heart.

Tears busted out from my eyes. A hollow. A hollow. Could you explain this hollow? I turned to Angel furiously, “Why, why I can’t find him in anywhere? Why I have to feel this hollow which causing my restless search of truth.” The Angel sighed, “She also felt like that too. She felt alone, hollow. I was lost from Her soul. No reply.”

“Who’s she? Why you always talked about her? It is about me, not her. ” I asked him infuriately. “It’s about us. She’s me, She’s you. We are unison.” He revealed truth. I frowned, “Who?”

“She’s, our writer.” Said The Angel.

What.

“She writes all these things. You and me. We are merely characters who projecting Her hysterical search of God.” Revealed him.
NONONONONONO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“But NO, I am alive, I am real human, I can think, I can breathe.” Denied me.

“Yes, but everything that you did, is merely thing which was pre-instructed by Her. You are only a frantic character which resembling Her Humanity confusion about God. You have no free will, so that you can’t be classified as human.” Revealed The Angel, again.

I cried, with my selfish tears, which denied my so-called false existence and indeed, Her existence which giving me nothing but whole restless confusion.

“Why She didn’t ask me, or at least feel pity on me before She created me?” I asked him angrily. The Angel gave me no reply. His silent intensified my anger. The Internet café was suddenly gone like blur water paint and turned into desert of nowhere. The desert wind blew hard to my face and his almost shattered wings. I looked hysterically to my surroundings.

I laughed loudly. She wanted to show Her omnipotent power but again, I would fight Her, you back. “I won’t lose from you.” I shouted Her.

I shouted him afterward, “Didn’t you feel same anger like me because of your ugly physical performances which She self-interestedly created? Why She gave you, the being who has fully faith on her, such a extremely ugly physical outlooks like this?”

Then he suddenly cried, again, his tears tortured me the most. “Why you cried? Did you felt sorry for your physical outlooks?” I asked him calmly. “No, I didn’t cry for that unimportant reason. Why She had to ask us for that? She’s our Creator; She can do anything as She pleases, including creating you and me without asking our pre-permission.” Answered The Angel.

“Including creating your ugly physical performances as She wished.” I inquired him back, only to burst his angelic anger, which turned Pious Lucifer to be King of Satan. He just nodded instead turn back to be furious about Her Injustice.

“I cried because She asked same question to Her own Writer, about why She had to be created with such restless question and to be very tormented by Her own restless search of truth or I rather say the real awakening. I cried because She chose to disbelief every answer that I gave. Like you, She also couldn’t endure the truth.” The Angel reasoned. “But how difficult it is, it is the real truth. I couldn’t give you any answer ‘cause you already chose to deny me.”

I cried.

We cried.

Yes, it was. He already gave me the answer that I looked for so long but I didn’t know why I still felt the burden deep inside in my hollow heart. Why you still put it?

Maybe, maybe, it was better for me, for us, to never know the truth, to be real deaf, blind, and mute. But I couldn’t.

“Imagine if there is no heaven”
John Lennon
Sorry John, but I couldn’t.
Me.
Reza Anggriyashati Adara.

I

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Posted by Creating Class 2005 | Posted on Sunday, November 23, 2008 | Posted in ,

Time has gone
For me as the invisible
Nothing's left for me
Love has gone
For me as the abandon one
No one will cry for me
Don't don't walk away
Too lonely down here
I still need you to stay
Listen, listen my crave
I'm here without presence
And you can only see my grave

A Brief Talk

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Posted by Creating Class 2005 | Posted on Thursday, November 20, 2008 | Posted in ,

(Inspired by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s An Angel With Enormous Wings)

I saw an angel.

He was standing under a dying tree in middle of an abandon grassy yard. Afternoon sun gave me a perfect glance of him, an unhandsome old man with almost bald gray hair. The wind breezed his dreary dirty shattered wings, a type which you wouldn’t ever see at immaculate Christmas’s postcard image.

But I knew he was an angel. His feet didn’t touch dry and cloaked soil under him. Instead, he was more like vague resemblance than flesh and blood substances like me. And I knew he was an angel because my heart said so, and what you could ever believe more? He gave me his toothless smile as I moved toward him. He talked, with universal language, which didn’t have to be uttered. But you would understand it instantly because your heart, the very trusted part of your body, said so.

 “I was lost”

 “From what?” asked me, with mortal language, which have to be uttered since my mortal nature hindered me from not doing so.

 “ A battle”

 “What battle?”

 “Of humanity” Then he cried, with tears that you wish you wouldn’t ever see or imagine, in the rest of your sinner days.

 I instantly felt some kind guilt, the one that you felt after you yelled at your parents or hurt someone you loved the most. I didn’t know why, but I assumed it was simply because he was an angel, the most sacred being after God himself. I hope you would nod to my statement if you also believed in them.

I asked him again, “What battle that you lost and why you cried?” Instead of answering my question, he asked me to walk with him. I, who was charmed by his uncanny irresistible charisma, couldn’t resist his invitation. Therefore we strode between wild bushes until reaching the borders of city and abandon land. I immediately shouted him, “Don’t go to the city, the place was burned out with the inner hell.”

He answered me, with a beatific smile instead of an uttered language. I guessed he wanted me to follow him first then the answer would come afterward.

Then I chose to follow him first.

We arrived at the Islamic clergy elementary school in the suburban area. The class was already started; students were listening their teacher with full-adored attention. “There is no God besides Allah, and Mohammed is His prophet.” Said teacher. My memory wandered to my own childhood days in clergy school.

“When you did naughty things, you will suddenly enter hell, the place of eternal fire where sinners become its fuel.” Said my teacher. His words rose hair at nape of my neck. Then I asked him back, “What we should do to avoid hell?” He answered with solemn voice, “Don’t do naughty things and prayed to Allah all the time.”

Hell, what a chilling word. Afterward, I became a very nice young child toward my parents. I didn’t want entering hell after I die. I prayed to God and behaved in nice attitude only for avoiding hell. I didn’t want to be eternal fuel in Hell. But then I got bored easily; being a nice child didn’t bring any fun side. You couldn’t yell, play, and do anything as you pleased. Life was full with burden.

 The angel grinned; I thought he was reading my own self-sin confession. I felt little bit embarrassed. But the Angel said that I was not the only one who felt like that. Hell is not only a horrifying but also captivating word. Most of people, prayed to God in order to avoid Hell only.

But was it the only core of worshiping?

How about love toward God?

I guessed no one could give me exact answer besides the Angel himself. Then I turned to him for exact answer. But I was wrong, instead answering my question; he just smiled and said that I was the only one who could answer my own restless question.

 Then we continued our journey until he stopped by in the university. Again, he shed his tears. I was confused and then asked him the reason behind his tears. He said that university is the place where human starts to reject God by assuming that they are already finding ultimate knowledge of everything.

“Was it wrong? Was it human’s mission to find ultimate knowledge of everything?” Asked me.

 “No, but the arrogance was the down side. When human starts to feel they are already being the source of knowledge, you only have to wait the catastrophe of humanity fall cruelly on them.”

 I didn’t want to continue our debate. It would only begin another conflict, one which didn’t have any final solution since Icarus failed to fly conquering the sun. I guessed he realized it and continued our walk to the inner city.

Another stop was Internet café, the new restless shrine of modern human. People starred at the computer with full attention, some giggling and some expressing their horny face. The Angel was stand still. We talked no more but watching them. After few seconds The Angel asked me with archaic question, “I couldn’t understand but wonder why so called modern human built it.”

 “It is new stage of modern communication, human could cut the distance and communicate easily with other people.” I answered with kind of proud toward internet, the best human’s invention ever. But he grinned instead of admiring, “Don’t you think internet is kind of oxymoron. When human say that they build new stage of communication, they also cut the real communication at same time. They are so called virtually talking to people.”

 “Don’t you think, God is also kind of modern communication. When I prayed to God, I felt like talking in private chatting room which giving me nothing but empty reply.” I answered him with full rage, which I didn’t understand where it came from.

 He didn’t give me any answer, I think he would never give me any answer and our journey would never end.

The Hardest Thing

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Posted by Creating Class 2005 | Posted on Thursday, November 06, 2008 | Posted in

The hardest thing is not leaving
But standing here while pretending
As if nothing had change
And I talk to you, not your grave

The pain is not yours but mine
As well as every remorse
For every good things I couldn't say
For every good deeds I couldn't pay

My Dear Dessy

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Posted by Creating Class 2005 | Posted on Thursday, November 06, 2008 | Posted in

At first I encountered her, I just noticed her as a typical girl next door who was living in the strict standard of a nice girl and the positive laws of our country. She seemed happy with her family, her friends, her boyfriend, and the most important thing, herself, which including her body and other physical appearances, a part which I never, ever could do with my own until my age reached twenty something.

She is smart, the fact that I think can’t only be proved by her perfect GPA but also by her attitude and her maturity. I think a smart girl is not only the one who could prove her brilliant GPA or her handsome stud but also the one who could put herself in perfect place in every situation, no matter how difficult her situation it is. An advertisement said that maturity is a choice and she chose to be mature in her early twenty.

She always looks perfect in every situation. I never, ever look at her with frown face due to personal problem. Despite I don’t know about the things that happen behind the closed door but I think she is truly happy with her own or she can handle her own problem without being drama queen like used to do. I think it is because she considers every problem as light as air. Once I ever envied her perfect GPA but she made me realized that life is not only about it. She gave me advice to loose myself and enjoyed life more. I did and it made much happier about myself.

She talks very calmly, a thing that I adore the most (Please don’t ever give this note to her because I will die in shame). I never see her with full fury, like I always do every day. I always want to imitate her calmness and mature soft-spoken attitude but it always ended with awkwardness.

In the other words, she is as normal as you can see. I thought she had no desire to live outlaw behind the standard of our dear society. But I was half wrong. She did live in standard but it was only in the surface. After I hung up with her pretty closely, I recognized her brain as deviated as a mental patient, partially.

She has kind of multiple personal disorders in written forms. Don’t ever judge the book by its cover and it will be good advice to know her better. Despite her good girl without any deviation appearance, you can read some of her works and notice that she has pretty many ideas to kill someone or such plots, which would make Poe nodding his head from his eternal grave.

It didn’t shock me the most because I think she must be has some dark side, like other person. But the part that interested me the most is how she could manage herself to look as normal as any person did and go on living with cruel stuffs in her head. As the conclusion, I grab many good things from her to make me better and put aside her bad ones as the remainder that nobody is perfect.

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