LIFEINSLUM

The meaning of life is water. Water is nature. And we are offspring from nature. Evolution speaks more of it. That, life started from water. The very beginning of humankind from “ovum” has the utmost impact of water existence. This, meaning, no life can’t subsist without water. Why it becomes inseparable for life to activate without water is because, if it possible that life can subsist without… it means, in the first place why do we have water? Why do we have nature? Why do we need oxygen? T he interpretation of this, point, that, life is inseparable from nature, because we are product and descendant of water. Water is everything. Water is the why we exist. Water is an expansion of life. Water is the rocket to colonalize, to travel beyond boundary. Water is the breed of consciousness. Water is the materialism of science. Water is the materialism of human exploration of creation. Water is an open door of conscious creativity of our world built by our hands. Water is never spiritualis

If really as poet will say life is beautiful. Why is it that, this… never speak well of what map the other side. Is it because, words is afraid or have gallop to pass this vicinity, or what? Again, it speaks another. Is it really that life is beautiful when the shanties inscribe gargantuan of lifeless existence package to adapt with. This in itself tell that the poetry that sees life in abstraction to be beautiful, is like jumping a fence without running to calculate the steps even when focusing. The shanties are never a painted story. Are a story that describes where and how this dungeon system has constructed the structure of life for generations upon generations of the raggers to adapt to this eyesore existence? This is a place where dwellers in the city of pronounce civilization beg to live a meaningful happiness. But, infact, it is a reality that confirmed the long deprivation of raggers, dwelling in mud settlement to ensure to make a survival. Yet, surviving under the boot and

When today is like this, how shall tomorrow look like? It is never a magic to think tomorrow will walk away easily from the shadow of today, when already today is living in thorns. Many thorns make the flesh to bleed as everyday count her misery. The picture never speak abstract of life that beg to have meaningfulness under the masters hands. This is a clear reality that lives in the colony never live different, but always the same painfully. The sun will shine over, and most occasion, the moon will appear to beatify the cloud on a world of paupers that wears ugliness, dirtiness and shroud pain that the heart always carriers without season when the template of reading happiness is scarce for the face to have. The toilers have continue to hope that tomorrow can walk away from the hideous features of today, yet, the story of both speak no falsehood as capital market have already stratify the sameness as jacket for the toilers to wear. To believe that life have change, meaning, whethe

Days always count as hustling to feed the table tell the story of raggers that have been rag to wear rag cloth. Rag has being the nomenclature of doing without. This is not to mean, it is natural. It is stories that cover and picture how the many hustling of these raggers to crown the empty stomach, still, instead; it continues to get empty. While the front page title unending hustling, the content inscribe words which weigh the starvation, the dungeon, the broken pot, the heart that weep, the song of thorns, under the iron, why this? Today and tomorrow: its meaning, piles of soreness and colony of casualty. These content is never detach from the written story of hustling the head won’t quench to thought of, and the words poetizing the continuity of still emptiness, even when the battle of bringing the burden down is still on shoulder. This is a memory that always flashes pain and squeezes all life out from life itself. The life the big shoe smashes and their hands take the surpl

It is never mystical, it is never fictional, and is not going to be imagination. Because, what eyes sees speak volume of the real life that the flesh and bones can’t leave to wear as each day passes. The meaning of life has being taken already before having it. It means, before getting it is an unending battle to toil with the height of using hands to break rock to pieces. This is how each day beg to have today when already tomorrow is very narrow, because the same today still carry the face of tomorrow. For the heart to bleed with many sorrows that soar it with wounds, reflects how centuries have undergone the sword that cut the flesh, living it with ponderous pain the heart weigh, when sees heritage of past still walk over the head, walking for continuity. To doubt this is heritage of soreness is to spit and wait for it to get dry. It is not suddentity neither is it a mistake. It is a factual reality which the tabloid of history speaks no falsification to see how burden is transf