Baca PDF (OCR): CONSTRUCT 14

construct

CN O T S

theconstructdocuments.blogspot.com

T RUT S C

N

Poems and prose are written by Future Collective

Writers Bayu Galang Cassius Song Jalang Mode Palpitone Paskadiksi Poetra Slamet Seorang Kalajengking

We publish strictly digitally every two months. Access all our past and current issues at theconstructdocuments.blogspot. com and contact us at [email protected]

Designed in Jakarta

All images are properly credited to their respective owners, we do not claim any form of ownership.

Masthead photo: María Teresa (1638–1683), Infanta of Spain, Velazquez, 1651-54

CONSTRUCT 2017 The views expressed in CONSTRUCT are shared by the publication as a whole.

KETAKUTAN EDITOR’S NOTE Fixed 7 TERITORIAL MATI PHYSICS OF I DEMAM Contents 9 13 17 THE ART OF ON DESIRE AND KONDISI SEPARATION OTHER MISPLACED THINGS 21 27 33 KEMBALI BERANGKAT KERJA 37 editor’s note

Menaruh harapan di tempat yang salah adalah awal mula keruntuhan.

Yang bisa diandalkan tentu tak pergi, tidak terhubung jauh artinya dari menghilang. Paham belum tentu diraih karena sering bicara.

Makna menumpuk di hulu telinga lantaran terlalu sering bertukar kata,. Sementara hilir lisan kerap menjerat buah pikir setengah tanggung, kemudian menghanyutkannya ke jurang basa-basi.

Pola serupa berulang terus; ya, tidak, bukan, itu, maksud, saya?

Bahasa dikerangkeng bak tahanan politik, disuapi makna hingga bibirnya dihinggapi lalat. Bagai memerlakukan pohon seperti bayi.

Ini bukan silap lidah.

Buahnya akan tumbuh walau dihampiri codot tiap petang. Namun, anak yang gagal disapih tak hanya merepotkan, juga akan mengecewakan.

Namun, jangan dulu salah kita timpakan pada bibit, tahu apa dia soal urusan orang dewasa? Bukankah agen rasional seharusnya tahu persis cara paling cepat berlindung di bawah bayang pohon rindang adalah dengan membantunya tumbuh?

Perkaranya datang ketika tunas dianggap ringkih, saat kemarau bertamu dan menggiringnya pada kekeringan. Kekuatannya dipaksa bercermin dari sekeras apa ia bertahan. Ketika penghujan habis nanti-nanti, ia diawasi sepanjang kala, khawatir belum sanggup belajar tenggelam.

Jika begitu maka masalahnya adalah kita.

Bagaimana cara menyelesaikannya?

Jawaban vulgar tentu menunjuk hidung kembar siam tragedi dan komedi. Jawaban lain butuh mengeruk pengalaman, yang belum tentu dipunya sepasang mata.

Kerapuhan kita, tak sama dengan kerapuhan bahasa. Ringkihnya kaki kita, berbeda dengan akar mereka. Lebah bukanlah kebun. Virus berlainan dari inang.

Sampai akhirnya di pucuk tahun waktu menyesal datang juga. Di masa ini kita berharap, menguburnya dalam-dalam agar tumbuh lebih kuat dan berguna.

Kali ini, kita harus menanamnya di tempat yang tepat.

construct 14 editor’s note

TERITORIAL MATI

Berjalan di pusat kota yang tandus / di antara konstelasi truk & Lexus risau tenggelam mendekam tanya / buat mati buah jadi— sebuah konsekuensi astrologis: pukul 5 pagi & sirene menyambut Lewat pembatas tanpa tiket / tak ada tiket / hanya roda-roda terbakar & di dalam semak belukar / macam tirai hitam panjang

Lelah terbaring di atas tanah / tertimbun mayat-mayat berhamburan—pulau-pulau daging membentang dipisahkan selat-selat darah Waktu berbisa mencengkeram mengungkap hakikatnya yang gelisah tubuh mati dilipat matahari / layaknya berita dalam mesin faksimile

Putar lagu & bernyanyi mengenang ingatan / yang berjudul tirai hitam panjang dalam resonansi tak berujung / & pertanyaan tentang dunia siapa mengudara mengiris asap tebal knalpot truk kompi militer di siang bolong—menular; penyakit endemik: (Kota siapa?) (Kota siapa?) (Dunia siapa?)

Langkah terpatah-patah di sisipan pikiran / yang menjamu kota imajiner dengan lagu-lagu yang tak mungkin terdengar tanpa sebuah dansa & takkan ada dansa tanpa diagram & sistem—di dalam sistem adalah truk-truk yang terbakar—bukan: bintang-bintang yang terbakar Berhenti bernyanyi / tendang sampai tubuh hancur & terjatuh as per the underlying theory of radioactivity an isotope is bound to deteriorate accordingly

under measurements so eerie called half-life where its meek existence gets sliced in half torpidly

now i don’t want to sound weary but since this relates to i ( so topical it actually sounds silly.)

if our world is a radioactive refinery at which rate does our i and so(ul) drift apart involuntarily?

DEMAM KETAKUTAN

Lihatlah

peluru, baton & sabit menggantikan sejarah

Kita tak lagi mengenal diri kita sendiri

Hantu dikompresi melalui kanta bola-mata—

melalui tidur yang bertransformasi

menjadi alfabet yang membelat

barisan ruas kegaduhan imateril

Malangnya Artaud / ia tak tahu seberapa dini

malam tiba saat kebenaran berdiaspora;

saat jeruji menganga lepas akhir rima

Kepingan tubuh memisahkan subuh

membentuk kalender satu warna

dihujam lensa-lensa liar yang jatuh ke bumi

Pemisahan-pemisahan kekal / susun cakram

dalam tempurung waktu / seperti emas membeku

Wahai mimpi-mimpi yang tertangguhkan

biar mereka yang tertidur menutup mulut selamanya

& biar mereka yang menutup mulut

tertidur

selamanya

Simply put, a painting is the result of a Painter who dabbles in some paint to expose his sin

in the same vein, music is the result of a Musician who devotes herself to a muse to escape her remorse

this may be how they appear in anyone’s mind and may be different for those who are blind for the eyes and ears may not be too kind only the blind and deaf may put behind

the virtue of the artist which is inconsequential to the Artwork who is merely another art piece to a select kin

Art should be seen as is unrelated to Artists who are already en route to another course

The monotony of prayers make devout lips quiver as they mutter requests, confessions, secret wishes on repeat: the sound of mosquitos buzzing and buzzing interrupting god’s sleep

hope is a word that is uttered when there’s nothing better or worse to say a borrowed sentiment never returned to its rightful place wherever that may be

sometimes you get so used to something you forget how to see it like the gas station you pass by every day but never notice until your tank is running low, or that tiny mole below your left eye

a threat is a wake-up call an alarm wailing on a raining Monday morning some smash it to the floor while others turn it off gently before they get out of bed to start the day Which one are you?

fear likes to be the star of the party but it’s also elusive it all depends on the crowd but the history books tell us that most crowds are the same and fear doesn’t change as fast as technology does which is unfortunate

o dear god, o allah… o nevermind I’ve run out of good things to ask for I’ve forgotten what they look and smell and feel like Do people always go to you to ask for good stuff? if good is relative, and god is absolute, I don’t want to know

these crises, open wounds waiting to get infected— probably already infected with our meaningless words, ambiguous intentions, and half assed acts of solidarity #pray #hope #wearewithyou #iamsomeoneelse meanwhile #theworldisgoingupinflames and we’re all suffering third degree burns What did we do to deserve such a realistic taste of hell? they say severe pain causes numbness but it’s more accurate to say they don’t know shit because numbness only masks the pain

denial masks a lot of things— as we have seen and as we shall see— including the fact that we deny so much yet admit so little, so very little that it amounts to nothing

It amounts to nothing… it amounts to nothing… …I forgot what I was raving on about but I suppose this is how most of us live we forget in spite of all the reminders because of all the reminders

I am ashamed

if god was a person and if that person was real and had feelings s/he would be too here’s a life spent walking in circles, which has quickly evolved into one spent running in circles

So much for evolution!

we need something quicker, but speed’s not the solution our days are numbered thanks to the invention of calendars we’re getting closer and closer to a future where numbers are as irrelevant as gains and losses

though having said that time flies in circles thanks to the invention of clocks and thanks to the invention of digital clocks time lands on the ground as numbers / / / time is a tired metaphor waiting to be put to good use it’s so exhausted it would rather be put to sleep

some languages don’t need tenses to function but no language is indifferent to time because no language can be created in a vacuum there is always a past, present and future even if they’re not spoken there are always risks

and consequences, which don’t seem scary until they stop being words and start being what they are say what you want to say, do what you want to do keep saying and doing what you want until you realize that wanting will never ever be enough, but even so…

I want love.

I want progress. I want words that won’t distort our collective experience. I want a fair vocabulary. I want words to carry weight. I want the strength to bear that weight. I want a language that expresses colours as colours and genders as humans. I want children to be strong in a world full of foolish adults. I want those approaching death to leave with the confidence that the world will one day bloom. I want to understand. I want all nations to free themselves from the shackles of nationalism. I want all nations to question their existence as nations. I want a good night’s sleep. I want the weekend to be just like any other day. I want promises to be kept but not if keeping them results in the oppression of millions. I want the truth to show itself. I want to look for the truth. I want to be convincing when I have to tell a necessary lie. I want to live until I die. I want to write poems until I die. I want to be able to tell when it’s right to start. I want to learn how to keep going. I want to know when it’s time to stop.

“yang ini kapan kelarnya?”, sebuah tanya di kiri telinga

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