ashrofu

[ashrofu]

I've been going to

the library. It's just

that the road is strange.

[ashrofu]

I've been going to

the library. It's just

that the road is strange.

[ashrofu]

Many days I have

contemplated to end it

all but God exists.

[ashrofu]

Salutation

No, I want to write

(even if my senses are dulled).

It’s 12 AM in Seri Manjung,

what could go awry?

One, there’s a gas station I like.

I love the traffic at 7,

by the junction in Sitiawan

that leads to everywhere (it seems).

I’d sing a tune as if it's a hit.

Retail therapy and playing tourist

in tropical summer.

We were lost in the moment,

then you outgrew me

in a Sheila Majid citypop kind of way.

Life hasn’t been kind to us both,

you wear it better.

I’m slipping my ass off spitting poems

but you the breadwinner

mature than most (really, I’m proud).

Even if you don’t hear from me,

send for me.

I miss our extended chatter in mamak;

subuh, then nasi lemak.

in a sad little corner

we’d order the same thing.

Thinking in 2016, what could go awry?

— Ashrofu

[ashrofu]

Now I'm thirty and looking for somebody to blame

the metal ore is rusty with all its faulty wiring

I accuse deus for this machina

the matcha rowrby

Open palms face the heavens

burying, butting off—echo this punk, punk!

I hear a dainty calling from a grassy field

from the hollowing reeds with their windsong

from within a 4x4m cubicle—too small a space for choreo

raising my insulin with Oreos

how to write a poverty.

~ Copu

[ashrofu]

What I say, write? Will it perjure me? Will I be subdued in time, and in rhymes because You call and I unheed each in turbid turning of the spoke I seek comfort I wade in the very same murky waters in the direction of the sun's setting the fruit of discovery is sweet the loot of disposession is saccharine the heart attempts as he might to lie and mystify but the Truth comes tearing and obliterating every walls and mist of ignorance. - Ashrofu

[ashrofu]

Why does it matter in the net now

the algorithm conforms to the surfer bow—

ing like a servant to an emperor

no space for activism, no know-how

when you see only what you wish to see

your conscience running on low pow—

ering same neural engine that provides

plagiarized artists' work:

generate me as a Ghibli—killed myself

after taking a plea

why does it Meta how much volume

of copyrighted works pillaged, when money flows

when userbase grow, feed me mo'

same LLM that talks be the same one gunning

for children, women, innocent civilians

target, confirm, shoot

Target, lock, heed, martyr!

who'd ever care, they only have been integer

who'd ever share, as if exposure has no power.

— Ashrofu

[ashrofu]

Hacking and tinkering

some of none

son of none

tins and clocks

to rewind time

Who am I?

how long the trail of red

from motherland's bleeding?

At night's disposition

there is soft humming of folksong

whiffs of shakshouka

in late shwarma place

one could talk fusha

and ask for shay

hanking and tinkering..

heckling and packing..

son of none

tin foils and a Glock

to rewind crime.

— Ashrofu

[ashrofu]

haiku puasa

Bersepoi hawa

Ramadan menghampiri

amal ibadah.

[ashrofu]

Dinginnya pelukan sang gelap

yang menyambutku ketika lahir

memberi gambaran hidup malap

ketika aku masih kanak

berapa nilai sejalur urat

dan galang ganti seorang anak?

Aku lihat

kilasan langit, sahaya jatuh

dari jambatan

ke perut Sungai Dinding

betapa durjananya hidup ini

getus aku

ketimbang sehari anak Palestina?

[ashrofu]

I was never gifted with brevity—that

moves and sways

everything that is aforementioned;

a purple prose, a scandalous joust

He hath indeed inspired

whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

or concurrently, the whole circle should know

and have pity, prithee

I was never also lifted from levity

born and bred at a village

never stopped me from becoming uppity

my treasure is my tongue, my erasure SHALL be of my tongue

I am not gobsmacked with novelty.

[ashrofu]

seeing my 'failures' as redirections has brought me so much peace about the things I thought I 'missed out on' in life. sometimes, you just don't know what you're being protected from—or what you're being set up for—until you can look back from a new vantage point. all you can do is trust that clarity will come when the time is right. and it will.

[ashrofu]

Are you promised heaven?

You do not pray, you do not pray.

Yet you speak in place of higher standing

proud and haughty

Yes, but you do not pray, do not pray

When your words blister and burn

leaving your mad'u even more harrowed than before

Yes, yes you do not pray

Is it by the hurling of your words hearts change for the better

or is it God's discretion

Pray, o lowly creature, pray

And thus how heavy your weight of good character

against a strip of feather?

[ashrofu]

Tiada siapa harus sunyi di umur dua-puluhan

kau jangan pergi

di teratak ada burung menyanyi lagu iri

terbayang sosok sentuhan butiran kata

"rindu" lembut mengusap

"hiba" cicipan di buku lali

"masa" dingin di lipatan mata

"cinta" hangat sekujur dakapan

kita berdua di antara rimbunan lalang

galau betis dilukai daun

aku takut dengan sepi

tuli dari dengar suara Tuhan

aku takut dengan lemari

baju-baju semalam memaut di jemari kaki

kau jangan pergi

dan andai seribu bahasa tak mampu menuturkan

diam! dan ujarkan kepadaku dengan mata.

[ashrofu]

Go home to your Beloved

here is a dried out field

the stock and the well barely knew each other

the mountains echo our singing

but they return ever so dolefully

is it the shape of you

that haunts the valley in all your likeness

or your shadow that shades the greenery

too blue you make the clouds pour

I wouldn't know, I have been away from my Beloved.

[ashrofu]

ڤو‫إ‬يسي

تياد سياڤ ڤرلو باچ

تياد سياڤ ڤرلو سرتا

يڠ برسليسيه تنڤا برسوا

يڠ برسوا تنڤا برکاسيه

تياد ساتو ڤرلو دوا

کاو بوکو لوسوه دڤينجم ريبوان

ستياڤ کالي دڤولڠ

تياد سياڤ هابيس باچ

بيلا توهن کاو بيلڠ توهن

تورونکن بالا بح بنچانا

اتاو دراياوکن کبون

اڠݢور دڤره-ڤرم

نعمة جادي بوانا

اکو تق ماهو بيچارا

اکو اجوڠ کڤولاو سڠسارا

[ashrofu]

And I didn't want to tell you

how quiet the road is

in lonesome company

of a desolate county

dragging my pen

writing my song for no man

catching cold from evening rain

while our world is breaking apart.