Sulit sekali berhenti merokok
Sulit sekali melarang orang merokok
Sulit sekali berbantahan dengan perokok
Menguras banyak energi…

Nampaknya perokok tak kuasa menahan egonya
Ia biarkan orang lain ikut menderita karenanya
Ikut sakit karena menghirup asapnya
Ikut terbiasa mencium baunya yang pengap
Ikut repot mengantarnya ke rumah sakit untuk berobat
Repot mengurus keringanan untuk membiayai perawatan di rumah sakit
Mengurangi jatah makan karena uangnya dipakai
Untuk beli rokok dan menanggung seluruh akibatnya
Padahal sekian banyak uangnya sudah keluar untuk mendapatkan asapnya

Rokok telah dibiarkan menjadi pujaan
Lebih baik tidak makan daripada tidak menghisap rokok
Apalagi sangat banyak jiwa yang hidup dari benda ini
Bayangkan saja…

Petani tembakau dan cengkeh
Pekerja pabrik kertas dan filter
Pekerja pabrik rokok
Pembuat iklan rokok: desain, papan reklame, buruh
Pekerja berbagai media cetak, radio, televisi yang mengiklankan rokok
Pekerja dan pengusaha korek api
Penjaja rokok di lampu merah
Warung minuman kecil yang juga menjual rokok
Minimarket, supermarket, hipermarket
Dokter dan perawat yang akan didatangi perokok sesak
Rumah sakit
Jasa fotokopi surat JPK Gakin dan SKTM untuk berobat
Angkutan kota mengantar jemput perokok sakit
Klinik berhenti merokok
Pabrik obat
Pabrik pasta gigi dengan pemutih gigi untuk perokok
Pabrik jaket anti sundut bara rokok
Pemerintah yang mendapatkan keuntungan berlimpah dari pabrik dan iklan
Pengusaha rokok yang paling lebar senyumnya
Dan seluruh keluarganya sampai tujuh turunan

Luar biasa hebat batang tembakau ini
Membuat mudah melupakan dashyat bahayanya
Bahwa ada 4000 zat kimia termasuk 200 racun didalamnya
Ada candu yang membuat tak bisa lepas darinya
Ada polusi asap rokok yang membahayakan orang lain
Semakin banyak kanker paru akibat menghirupnya
Rokok menguras kantong perokok miskin
Membuat seluruh keluarga tak makan karenanya

Seakan ia telah menghipnotis banyak jiwa
Sehingga tak peduli atas peringatan pada kemasannya
MEROKOK DAPAT MENYEBABKAN KANKER, SERANGAN JANTUNG, IMPOTENSI DAN 
GANGGUAN KEHAMILAN DAN JANIN

Rokok memang luar biasa…


By Dee Dian Wizznoe
8 Mei 2010

Aku rindu padamu!
Rasa rindu ini tak terucapkan dengan kata-kata
Rasa rindu yang menyesakkan dada

Aku ingin menjerit
Aku ingin menangis
Hingga rasa sesak ini hilang

Akankah kau datang
Untuk mengobati rasa rinduku
Dan menghilangkan sesak di dadaku ini?


RS 08042010

Oleh: Taufiq Ismail

Indonesia adalah sorga luar biasa ramah bagi perokok, tapi tempat 
siksa tak tertahankan bagi orang yang tak merokok.

Di sawah petani merokok,
di pabrik pekerja merokok,
di kantor pegawai merokok,
di kabinet menteri merokok,
di reses parlemen anggota DPR merokok,
di Mahkamah Agung yang bergaun toga merokok,
hansip-bintara-perwira nongkrong merokok,
di perkebunan pemetik buah kopi merokok,
di perahu nelayan penjaring ikan merokok,
di pabrik petasan pemilik modalnya merokok,
di pekuburan sebelum masuk kubur orang merokok.

Indonesia adalah semacam firdaus-jannatu-na’im sangat ramah bagi 
perokok, tapi tempat siksa kubur hidup-hidup bagi orang yang tak 
merokok.

Di balik pagar SMU murid-murid mencuri-curi merokok,
di ruang kepala sekolah…ada guru merokok,
di kampus mahasiswa merokok,
di ruang kuliah dosen merokok,
di rapat POMG orang tua murid merokok,
di perpustakaan kecamatan ada siswa bertanya apakah ada buku tuntunan 
cara merokok.

Di angkot Kijang penumpang merokok,
di bis kota sumpek yang berdiri yang duduk orang bertanding merokok,
di loket penjualan karcis orang merokok,
di kereta api penuh sesak orang festival merokok,
di kapal penyeberangan antar pulau penumpang merokok,
di andong Yogya kusirnya merokok,
sampai kabarnya kuda andong minta diajari pula merokok.

Negeri kita ini sungguh nirwana kayangan para dewa-dewa bagi perokok, 
tapi tempat cobaan sangat berat bagi orang yang tak merokok.

Rokok telah menjadi dewa, berhala, tuhan baru, diam-diam menguasai kita.

Di pasar orang merokok,
di warung Tegal pengunjung merokok,
di restoran, di toko buku orang merokok,
di kafe di diskotik para pengunjung merokok.

Bercakap-cakap kita jarak setengah meter tak tertahankan asap rokok,
bayangkan isteri-isteri yang bertahun-tahun menderita di kamar tidur
ketika melayani para suami yang bau mulut dan hidungnya mirip asbak 
rokok.

Duduk kita di tepi tempat tidur ketika dua orang bergumul saling 
menularkan HIV-AIDS sesamanya, tapi kita tidak ketularan penyakitnya. 
Duduk kita disebelah orang yang dengan cueknya mengepulkan asap rokok 
di kantor atau di stop-an bus, kita ketularan penyakitnya. Nikotin 
lebih jahat penularannya ketimbang HIV-AIDS.

Indonesia adalah sorga kultur pengembangbiakan nikotin paling subur di 
dunia, dan kita yang tak langsung menghirup sekali pun asap tembakau 
itu, bisa ketularan kena.

Di puskesmas pedesaan orang kampung merokok,
di apotik yang antri obat merokok,
di panti pijat tamu-tamu disilahkan merokok,
di ruang tunggu dokter pasien merokok,
dan ada juga dokter-dokter merokok.

Istirahat main tenis orang merokok,
di pinggir lapangan voli orang merokok,
menyandang raket badminton orang merokok,
pemain bola PSSI sembunyi-sembunyi merokok,
panitia pertandingan balap mobil, pertandingan bulutangkis, turnamen 
sepakbola mengemisngemis mencium kaki sponsor perusahaan rokok.

Di kamar kecil 12 meter kubik, sambil ‘ek-’ek orang goblok merokok,
di dalam lift gedung 15 tingkat dengan tak acuh orang goblok merokok,
di ruang sidang ber-AC penuh, dengan cueknya, pakai dasi, orang-orang 
goblok merokok.

Indonesia adalah semacam firdaus-jannatu-na’im sangat ramah bagi 
orang perokok, tapi tempat siksa kubur hidup-hidup bagi orang yang tak 
merokok.

Rokok telah menjadi dewa, berhala, tuhan baru, diam-diam menguasai kita.

Di sebuah ruang sidang ber-AC penuh, duduk sejumlah ulama terhormat 
merujuk kitab kuning dan mempersiapkan sejumlah fatwa.

Mereka ulama ahli hisap.
Haasaba, yuhaasibu, hisaaban.
Bukan ahli hisab ilmu falak,
tapi ahli hisap rokok.

Di antara jari telunjuk dan jari tengah mereka terselip berhala- 
berhala kecil, sembilan senti panjangnya, putih warnanya, kemana-mana 
dibawa dengan setia, satu kantong dengan kalung tasbih 99 butirnya.

Mengintip kita dari balik jendela ruang sidang, tampak kebanyakan 
mereka memegang rokok dengan tangan kanan, cuma sedikit yang memegang 
dengan tangan kiri.
Inikah gerangan pertanda yang terbanyak kelompok ashabul yamiin dan 
yang sedikit golongan ashabus syimaal?

Asap rokok mereka mengepul-ngepul di ruangan AC penuh itu.
Mamnu’ut tadkhiin, ya ustadz. Laa tasyrabud dukhaan, ya ustadz.
Kyai, ini ruangan ber-AC penuh.
Haadzihi al ghurfati malii’atun bi mukayyafi al hawwa’i.
Kalau tak tahan, di luar itu sajalah merokok.

Laa taqtuluu anfusakum. Min fadhlik, ya ustadz.
25 penyakit ada dalam khamr. Khamr diharamkan.
15 penyakit ada dalam daging khinzir (babi). Daging khinzir diharamkan.
4000 zat kimia beracun ada pada sebatang rokok. Patutnya rokok diapakan?

Tak perlu dijawab sekarang, ya ustadz. Wa yuharrimu ‘alayhimul 
khabaaith.
Mohon ini direnungkan tenang-tenang, karena pada zaman Rasulullah 
dahulu, sudah ada alkohol, sudah ada babi, tapi belum ada rokok.

Jadi ini PR untuk para ulama.
Tapi jangan karena ustadz ketagihan rokok, lantas hukumnya jadi 
dimakruh-makruhkan, jangan.

Para ulama ahli hisap itu terkejut mendengar perbandingan ini.
Banyak yang diam-diam membunuh tuhan-tuhan kecil yang kepalanya berapi 
itu, yaitu ujung rokok mereka.

Kini mereka berfikir. Biarkan mereka berfikir.
Asap rokok di ruangan ber-AC itu makin pengap, dan ada yang mulai 
terbatuk-batuk.

Pada saat sajak ini dibacakan malam hari ini, sejak tadi pagi sudah 
120 orang di Indonesia mati karena penyakit rokok. Korban penyakit 
rokok lebih dahsyat ketimbang korban kecelakaan lalu lintas.

Lebih gawat ketimbang bencana banjir, gempa bumi dan longsor, cuma 
setingkat di bawah korban narkoba.

Pada saat sajak ini dibacakan, berhala-berhala kecil itu sangat 
berkuasa di negara kita,
jutaan jumlahnya, bersembunyi di dalam kantong baju dan celana, 
dibungkus dalam kertas berwarni dan berwarna, diiklankan dengan indah 
dan cerdasnya.

Tidak perlu wudhu atau tayammum menyucikan diri, tidak perlu ruku’ 
dan sujud untuk taqarrub pada tuhan-tuhan ini, karena orang akan 
khusyuk dan fana dalam nikmat lewat upacara menyalakan api dan sesajen 
asap tuhan-tuhan ini.

Rabbana, beri kami kekuatan menghadapi berhala-berhala ini.


Catatan: Lagi nonton Mata Najwa dan lihat Taufiq Ismail baca puisi. 
Bukan puisi yang ini sih, tapi mirip. Jadi posting yang ini dulu deh, 
sambil cari yang tadi.

Mengapa PERANG harus terjadi?
Mengapa kita harus saling MEMBUNUH?
Mengapa kita harus saling MENYAKITI?
Tidak adakah lagi rasa MANUSIAWI
Sudah tidak kenalkah kita pada PERDAMAIAN
Sudah lupakah kita pada CINTA
Apakah CINTA dan PERDAMAIAN
akan menjadi sesuatu yang langka
Tidak adakah lagi penghargaan 
terhadap HAK ASASI yang dengan susah payah 
telah kita PERJUANGKAN
Alangkah indahnya bumi kita ini
Bila ada PEACE, LOVE, UNDERSTANDING
Di antara penghuninya

*RS18496*

NB: Tulisan lama yang kayaknya pas untuk diangkat kembali dengan suasana seperti saat ini...

Walking through the future branches
I know not about the sharp excrescence on its plants
Not knowing about the various thorny shrubs 
Makes me wonder how painful the thorny future buzz
But lying ahead is a shining morning on a thorny curb
Legs on the spiny protuberances blemishes
Just to get to the shining morning of my future premises
Where thorn of mercy, happiness, and joy lays
Thorny future filled with opportunity and grace
But the thorn on the future path
causes sharp pain, irritation, discomfort bath
Causing irritation, annoyance, and burns
Letting out its anger, hatred and love
On the future path filled with thorns
Who knows if the shining morning ahead
have his own beaming thorns? 
May be even sharper than the ones on its path and curb. 

Olufunmbi Aransiola 

our future
our future is hidden
among the vast forests of our soul
our future is waiting
among the depths of our own ocean
our future is yourself
you create your future
run through the forests
swim through your ocean
and you will find yourself
you
your future 

Zia Jaycee May Trent

A sister is someone who leads you when you are having a problem.
A sister makes you laugh and cry.
A sister is someone who likes to fight with you.
A sister is the one who stands with you in all your ups and downs.
A sister makes you remember who you really are.
A sister sometimes makes you cry when they are very sad.
A sister is someone who is always there for you through all the laughter and tears.
A sister is real.
A sister never will pretend.
A sister is someone like you whom I treasure everyday in my heart. 

-Kayla Fraser-

A friend is somebody
Who knows you and likes you 
Exactly the way that you are.

Someone who's special
And so close in thought
That no distance can ever seem far.

A friend understands you 
Without any words, 
Stands by you
When nothing goes right.

And willingly talks
Over problems with you 
Till they somehow
Just vanish from sight.

And whether you're neighbors 
Or live miles apart, 
A word from a friend gives a lift 
To your heart  and spirit.

That shows  you once more
Why friendship is life's dearest gift!

- Author Unknown -

source: here

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad.

Always remember to forget
The friends that proved untrue.
But don't forget to remember
Those that have stuck by you.

Always remember to forget
The troubles that have passed away.
But never forget to remember
The blessings that come each day.

- Author Unknown -

Dedicated to all my best friends. Miss you a lot.
This poem can be find in here.

Father, can you hear me? 
Father, can you see me? 
Father, can you help me through this night? 

Father, are you with me? 
I look up at the sky, and wonder why, I feel so alone now.
Father, will you help me, I’m afraid to close my eyes? 

Father, can you hear me? 
Father, can you see me? 
Father, if I sleep now, will you be watching over me this night? 

Father, can you hear me? 
Father, can you see me? 
Father, the world I see is so much larger, than I remember when you were here with me.

Father, can you hear me? 
Father, can you see me? 
Father, can you help me, stand own my own two feet once more? 

Father, I’m on my knees, looking at the sky, looking for your eyes.
Father, I’ve lost my way, God, I pray for your guidance once more.
Father, what was your will, God, it was not mine.

Father, can you hear me? 
Father, can you see me? 
Father, as I pray for your will, please come and show me the way, dear God I pray.

Amen 

Gloria Comingore 

dedicated to my lovely father, may you rest in peace.

A Father means so many things...
An understanding heart,
A source of strength and of support
Right from the very start.
A constant readiness to help
In a kind and thoughtful way.
With encouragement and forgiveness
No matter what comes your way.
A special generosity and always affection, too
A Father means so many things
When he's a man like you... 

~Author Unknown~

Today is my father's birthday. Such a caring person. He likes children so much. He gave us best things in life. Such an idol for me and my sisters. His the best father I ever had. 
I love U, Papa. May you rest in peace.

A Mother's love is something
that no one can explain,
It is made of deep devotion
and of sacrifice and pain,
It is endless and unselfish
and enduring come what may
For nothing can destroy it
or take that love away . . .
It is patient and forgiving
when all others are forsaking,
And it never fails or falters
even though the heart is breaking . . .
It believes beyond believing
when the world around condemns,
And it glows with all the beauty
of the rarest, brightest gems . . .
It is far beyond defining,
it defies all explanation,
And it still remains a secret
like the mysteries of creation . . .
A many splendoured miracle
man cannot understand
And another wondrous evidence
of God's tender guiding hand.

~Helen Steiner Rice~


PS: this is dedicated to my mother, my host mom, my mother in law and all mother in the world

Edgar Allan Poe
[First published in 1845]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!


Note: first time I read this poem was on my English Literature Class once upon a time during my exchange year. Missed those old time. (Rethia)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
 
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
 
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost (1874–1963).  Mountain Interval.  1920