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If the convict Poetry Writing Off That
If the convict Poetry Writing Off That August 2, 2016 22:08:15 Updated: August 2, 2016 22:22:49 Read: 9 Comments: 0 Score: 0 unit of execution by firing squad on the last days before the execution of the death penalty to be a day which is very busy. Very busy for the inmate and others are preparing for execution. It is said that the cost is so not cheap. What was left by the drug runners were nothing more than the story of law, criminal cases, the list of sins, and technical death penalty. Even the clergy, law enforcement, and the family just tells the story about it. If only at critical moments included in it the authors, journalists, poets, bloggers, and other artists (playwrights, painters, sculptors, and film director) undoubtedly echo the magnitude of the punishment it would lay such viral. So it is like the proverbial 'killed a thousand hearts will melt' drug criminals out there. This paper try to highlight only one side, if the prisoners were writing poetry. Meaning of Poetry, Expression Not that wrote it easy and trivial. But everyone surely the potential to become a poet at critical moments, forced, or push yourself. Although just yell of anger, or snorted annoyed and mad. Maybe just talk nonsense that is not 'connect'. Or even just punctuation marks, only abstract paintings, just regurgitated stomach contents. All that can be interpreted poetry, depending commentator-peresensi-curator or whatever his name in interpretation associated with the condition of the 'me' time. As poetry has a range of genres, the context of the times, the poet character, choice of media to express it, as well as various other things; then the prisoners were free to have died or otherwise not vote at all that diversity. Unfortunately, the assumption above tidk moved mnjadi reality. Therefore if I were to convict dead, I will write a lot of poetry. Poems that mark the various feelings and thoughts that are specific to people dying in front of a firing squad. Incidentally, I've been writing it for a long time, I've been posting on Kompasiana, and some of them I cuplik in this paper. From Chainsaws to the Present That Age people who know. There is a new direct contact with the disease died. There is even the unknown disease had already died. But there are also people who for years was rewarded many diseases but as difficult died. Age problem can be described like a rock climber who ropes where he hung himself gnawed rats. He must quickly reach the top before the rat decided it depended rope. Everyone in a variety of activities, busyness and complexity through life hitch and death threats continue to be lurking. Circumstances that I described in the passage of this poem: If there is a tree trunk, which rises through the sky // So millions of chainsaws ready merubuhkannya // Being pieces and crumbs, into the craft and building // Rod never was so worried by the sharp blades apart // which every moment threatened to spread the hurt, shed sap // Live milestone, bush, until the animals were scattered sob // when someone is dead, the body becomes inanimate objects. He was no longer able to hide something that is attached to the body if it is hidden during this meeting. At the hospital morgue body was left naked. When bathed else people can freely see and examine every inch of his body. Is that a former plastic surgery, is there any signs of certain of crimes, whether there is a tattoo and piercing scars, is there any injection site and the incision in the arm, whether complete his limbs, and so on. All open and known to many people. But for those who adhere to religious requirements, these things (especially that is a disgrace) will not be revealed much less talked about. It is precisely those people who are obliged to cover it. But in the hands of the media into another story altogether. In the hands of the media if possible everyone must unmask, as in parts of this poem: Let us remove the cloak of our humanity // Then share suspicion and envy // // To reap its own benefits Until either the sun receded later in another horizon // It how we survive the last days // No longer something higher // Instead of our humanity that destroyed the spout // To buy false hope and cosmetics // In the language of religion is mentioned that the world is nothing more than a tinkering, artificial and while. In the words of the old wisdom said that a person living in this world just stopped for a drink. No other real-life hereafter, nature after death. This understanding would not apply to those who do not believe, or have different beliefs. When someone facing a firing squad might just realize that the old saying is true, as illustrated in a piece of this poem: I like playing in the dark when mistaken // // gelaplah are freely although sometimes toying // // asleep until night drooping Ahead of death may be all your senses become sharper. Also mind and intuition. So no one they were able to see more detail, able to hear more clearly, and so on. Maybe it was when someone in the course of mammoth named death's door. Or perhaps some time before then. As in whch the following poem: There was fog in distant perspective rainbow // // gray clouds also feels sharp eyes, ears honed accompany // // Load increasingly heavy body blood flow faltered, and then silence // From gloves to market with a Contrite a feeling of indescribable wrapped themselves soon undergo a death sentence. Kesederhana and various alarming picture difficult to pose no mercy. That passage of lyrical poetry with the picture in the rest of age as follows: Gloves rags is patterned batik matted but loyal dress themselves and the heart, until he was again complained of pain especially shivering which derange the night late, the prostration, the fear, the death that make-ahead whittle the seconds, exfoliate sheet resigned soul went home .... The death penalty in this country by being shot in the heart of a condemned man. Some shooters prepared, but only one rifle bullets. When the sound of gunfire echoed dikeheningan night. Then a hole is formed, perforate bannngian deadly body. In the following poem excerpt gaping hole for criminals who were executed at the crime scene. And right between the two eyes // // A gaping hole Surrender // In death he seemed simple. But why? // A dead inmate has the right to file a last request. And every prisoner turned out to have different options. There are certain foods requested, requested relates to his wife, asking buried in hometown, and other requests. Excerpt of poem following a request to mark the resting place of a person's future. And later when the stones missed the soft arm // So kusisakan hunk is fractured with a hammer // Just put it on the mound menandaiku // So he is able to tell who and why should I? // Although it has been overwhelmed with a sense of resignation, inevitably regret it tib suddenly arise to haunt. Parting dengam child-wife, remorse had ignored their advice, and various images imbecility themselves unconscious during this time. The picture looks dalan footage following story: The night was so long until the morning. Not a single moment the eye is capable kupicingkan. Behind bars have all said they came back to him in the ear. Ah, if I am not so ignorant to understand the expression of their love at the time. , , .// From On the Edge Limit to False Faces Space and time were limited, and that characterize the world. While space and time after death are not limited to, unimaginable how. Everyone must have passed through the gate, for a transition. The process towards the release-or more precisely dicabutnya- spirit was so heavy, pain, and difficulty. And everybody has to go it alone. As outlined in this poem snippet: At the end of the boundary later, let me alone // // strip off the steps and muttered leave all the attributes attached to the body and settles // // pass the dividing line to chase down a different time, a sense of a changing / / Death can mean freedom, the spirit that has been freed from the burden of physical / body / wadag / temporal limit. Death thus opening the opportunity at a meeting with all who have 'gone' precedes. The meeting in breadth, flexibility, and convenience airy unfolds. Maybe grassland can describe the 'new world' is. and the following couplet poem: God brings us to the weeds // In the field open to fondle // There cericit changed orskestra war birds // I do not more men deserted heart fervently // nomadic herding of the night into the early morning trail leads you Kala // lost in a veil of tired tread lip // Each person may have a different faith after his death later. Some think after death they can take revenge. Some think they can threaten and scare. As footage of the following poem: Someday I'd gone you one by one with a faceless // // If you ask why, I replied // //'s been kugadaikan Now it's your turn soon peeled the entire face palsumu // Beat until you would be embarrassed to narcissistic tireless time // We poet this article once more as an expression of sorry to see death row inmates were not writing poetry. Just a poem that may be the origin of the sound, unmarked origin, and may be a reflection of the nature of life and death. The request was sebenarnyalah hnya joke highly exaggerated. Bombastic and unrealistic. But to meet the desires of the media in the name of the audience very much, then not deserve ignored. like picture following poem lines: Outside, thousands of readers continue to wait so thirsty // And the only poem that is capable of touching the soul, spirit conjured up lost // Bends heart thirsty lost everything, only poem I guess // Write, my friend! Before the rest of us hurried age disappeared who knows where! // Until sometime there will be a poet to be put to death. Yeah! Why not. Is not to pursue the idea, a poet may use illicit goods? And because of continuity can only be the city for another poet. So imagine how many poems created before the outbreak of the mouth of the sniper rifle on his chest. Perhaps even in the last seconds of death he had recited the poem in such a way, loud, loud, and full of feeling. So he must be our poet, like the footage the following poem: If nobody likes to slam the word // then chew and swallow // then inevitably he our poet // disekujurnya smudged different ways and tasting it said // at the tip of the tongue and // curly hair was dangling letters, periods, commas, snarled and shouted wound // Closing this special poem I wrote after the execution of a second wave of death in the drug kingpin year ago: A bullet complete address for me, the rest empty cachets // I faced now the moments pass slow as a snail creeping // When freezing winds, cold digging and late night // Merintih melancholy. Dark eyes bandaged afraid might fear, my heart shrunken wait // Semoba this paper is able to come to warm the atmosphere and provide excitement every time the executions. Excited and reactive marks we live and take notice, mark us think and want to voice something, and of course also marked that we like the busy-noisy-boisterous. In short, frenzied, hectic, frenetic, and too jarring. Then listen to the barrage of sharp chug a loaded gun in the dead of night it was. And feel the wind whistling so fast, and then a sharp object hit parts of our body. Mengangang past the hole, then our mouths open. There is a muffled scream, yell strangled there. And like thistles are removed from the body. Thousand ill, a million or a billion poignant become one. , , , .! Ruh we sailed home! And poetry that will be remembered by all melatarinya story. Ah, if only they are willing to write it. If only at critical moments included in it the authors, journalists, poets, bloggers, and other artists. Then mem-viralkannya such in the media. How great his influence to silence the drug abuse
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