Wake up, please

There are moments in life when I just don't know
which way to go.
Although both to my left and to my right
it's perfectly bright
and tree leaves are softly touched by the passing breeze,
why is it that my poor brain seems to freeze?

Where's my spirit which usually keeps my mind busy?
Is it hiding somewhere or has it left me behind?
"Nonsense," Mr. Spirit cries out.
"I'm here, right here, without doubt.
Grab me fast and I'll be with you,
ready to devote myself to you."

And I wake up, quite ashamed
that I've made a scapegoat of my spirit.
It's up to me whether I do something
or not, isn't it?
whether it's to be or not to be.
It's the will that's lacking within me.

Oh, come on, get up and make a decision.
Grab that impatiently waiting inspiration.
Get ready to be a useful member of society
with the blessing of the Almighty.
Turn away from all that causes you trouble
and makes you so lackadaisical.
Remember, there's still so much you can do
in Y2K for those around you.

-- By Djoeweriah P.S.

Talk to me

Come on, Surabaya,
a word in your car.
Don't stress out. I won't shout "Fire"
but if you want to talk, I'm here.
I see by your nerves, I see your load.
We really need to have a chat,
sit down beside your road;
the open air, we'll share a snack
and have a heart-to-heart.

But p'raps you want to hold your cards
and cage yourself behind those hundred guards
who make my guts run chicken below the door
of your penthouse pent in luxury
making me feel much too small
to ever really meet you.

You couldn't care less.

My words are swallowed
by your wheeled thunder,
a being that can't rest;
my words are blown away by your wind;
I'm drained and old and hot and stuffed;
my mind is going under
struggling in your flow of sin,
spasm in your river,
turbid with that mud.

By Viddy AD Daery