Frustrations.
People ignore you because of the way you behave, because of the what you believe in.
And you give yourself reasons to justify in what you believe in and on the way you behave.
You know at this rate, somebody won't budge. So you keep your ground for now and don't slip.
There's so much more you have in your hands. Don't slip and you know you'll still have what you want to have.
So dig a hole, fill it back in and you'll make it at the end of the day.
The crop you yield hasn't been ideal, so don't grow anymore when you know the crop you have is crap and better off as the fertilizers that help grow a better crop.
The Calm Hum of The Radio
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Madonna?
I saw you at the counter today. You looked the same, as always.
The same shoes, the same bracelet, the same way your hair is done.
Only that you didn't wear the ring I got you before.
I took a second glance and I thought, perhaps, that wasn't you. That could have been someone else that might have looked like you. It's possible. It's a fact that there's 7 people who look exactly like you in the world, who knows, another one of you could be there, just like you.
There's a 1 out of 7 chance it could be. Right?
No, it is you.
You pack in the same things that we used to before. The same milk, the same juice. The same brand of jam we like on our toast.
The portions are meant for two and I wonder who it is you're seeing right now.
I should have said Hi as I pushed my cart towards the cashier. I should have.
But I didn't.
The same shoes, the same bracelet, the same way your hair is done.
Only that you didn't wear the ring I got you before.
I took a second glance and I thought, perhaps, that wasn't you. That could have been someone else that might have looked like you. It's possible. It's a fact that there's 7 people who look exactly like you in the world, who knows, another one of you could be there, just like you.
There's a 1 out of 7 chance it could be. Right?
No, it is you.
You pack in the same things that we used to before. The same milk, the same juice. The same brand of jam we like on our toast.
The portions are meant for two and I wonder who it is you're seeing right now.
I should have said Hi as I pushed my cart towards the cashier. I should have.
But I didn't.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Red Light Angel
I stood upon the junction between the alleys, red light glaring at my face as I watched the men and women pass me by.
Standing there, memories crawl back upon my head, like a reel that you don't want to look back at but you can't because the forward button is spoilt.
I remember when I first stood upon this place, the greasy stench and the women standing along side the streets. Mannequins, all of them, with an inviting welcome that was insincere and the young men that hawk them like wares for rent. Like renting a bike, telling you its the smoothest ride you could ever get.
I see past their advertisements, their offers of a good night. I look past the portrayed beauty of the streets and I see these angels in their eyes. Why would I call them angels? Why not? Does a profession distinct upon the character of a person, thus implementing that I should judge them by that. What absolute bullshit.
There's something about these angels that intrigue me. Who are you? Why are you here? Is there any reason or cause that you should be here right now?
Or are you just an illusion? A temporary image for the carnal desires of men with no such distinction over their desires. A fallen angel perhaps, redeeming yourselves and yet finding no gratification over the work that you do.
I took one by the hand that night and led her away from the red lights. We were in a room dim and empty, heavy with something I don't understand she begins to take her clothes off.
I told her to stop and I told her don't. She doesn't understand and grew afraid over the mysterious circumstances and I asked her, where was she before she found herself in this forsaken streets and alleys of illusion.
She told me of sandy beaches and palm trees. She told me of wooden boats and village men, pulling nets and fighting against the waves of the sea. She told me of an escape and a risk she took.
She broke into tears. She then told me she'd never look back because all that is left is an emptiness that no one could fill. I held her as she cried and she asked me why I had to know where she's from and why I brought back something that she never wanted to look back at.
It wasn't because I wanted to save her. I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to know.
I left her, telling her that the chapter she left behind is a memory embedded within her and that she should be proud of that. Mistakes done, mistakes come and gone. What's left is forward and perhaps, there is that place she left so many years ago in a new chapter where there shall be no shame, no illusion.
She smiled and I walked away, knowing that for these women, their dark chapters behind them could be as bright as their chapters ahead of them.
Fallen angels, clamoring back towards redemption.
I came to the Red Lights and I stood by their alleys. Angels turn their backs on me, over mistakes come and gone. The only thing ahead is the light that I always should continue to press on about.
Standing there, memories crawl back upon my head, like a reel that you don't want to look back at but you can't because the forward button is spoilt.
I remember when I first stood upon this place, the greasy stench and the women standing along side the streets. Mannequins, all of them, with an inviting welcome that was insincere and the young men that hawk them like wares for rent. Like renting a bike, telling you its the smoothest ride you could ever get.
I see past their advertisements, their offers of a good night. I look past the portrayed beauty of the streets and I see these angels in their eyes. Why would I call them angels? Why not? Does a profession distinct upon the character of a person, thus implementing that I should judge them by that. What absolute bullshit.
There's something about these angels that intrigue me. Who are you? Why are you here? Is there any reason or cause that you should be here right now?
Or are you just an illusion? A temporary image for the carnal desires of men with no such distinction over their desires. A fallen angel perhaps, redeeming yourselves and yet finding no gratification over the work that you do.
I took one by the hand that night and led her away from the red lights. We were in a room dim and empty, heavy with something I don't understand she begins to take her clothes off.
I told her to stop and I told her don't. She doesn't understand and grew afraid over the mysterious circumstances and I asked her, where was she before she found herself in this forsaken streets and alleys of illusion.
She told me of sandy beaches and palm trees. She told me of wooden boats and village men, pulling nets and fighting against the waves of the sea. She told me of an escape and a risk she took.
She broke into tears. She then told me she'd never look back because all that is left is an emptiness that no one could fill. I held her as she cried and she asked me why I had to know where she's from and why I brought back something that she never wanted to look back at.
It wasn't because I wanted to save her. I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to know.
I left her, telling her that the chapter she left behind is a memory embedded within her and that she should be proud of that. Mistakes done, mistakes come and gone. What's left is forward and perhaps, there is that place she left so many years ago in a new chapter where there shall be no shame, no illusion.
She smiled and I walked away, knowing that for these women, their dark chapters behind them could be as bright as their chapters ahead of them.
Fallen angels, clamoring back towards redemption.
I came to the Red Lights and I stood by their alleys. Angels turn their backs on me, over mistakes come and gone. The only thing ahead is the light that I always should continue to press on about.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Hey Joe 3
Joe
Hey...
Voice
Where have you been all this time?
Joe
I've been around. It's been a roller coaster of an emotional ride for me. I guess I know how women go through their emotional times during the time of the month.
Voice
What justifies that this is how women feel?
Joe
I feel crappy, the feel crappy, we all feel crappy, what difference would that make except a bunch of crapped up people feeling crappy?
Voice
I don't get your point.
Joe
Its okay, I don't get me either.
Voice
Heh. No one gets each other, so don't worry about it.
Joe
How have you been?
Voice
I've been fine, you?
Joe
I've been lonely in my own home. No one's talking to me except when they think they could use my laptop. I don't let them because I'm tired of people thinking they can take advantage of me by me letting them use my stuff.
Voice
What's all this about?
Joe
It's about me.
Voice
That's fair. You have to have you.
Joe
Wow, its scary being rebellious but I just know its right for me.
Voice
You know what's right for you. I mean, look at your aunt. She's going back on her word on every single thing that's she's said.
Hey...
Voice
Where have you been all this time?
Joe
I've been around. It's been a roller coaster of an emotional ride for me. I guess I know how women go through their emotional times during the time of the month.
Voice
What justifies that this is how women feel?
Joe
I feel crappy, the feel crappy, we all feel crappy, what difference would that make except a bunch of crapped up people feeling crappy?
Voice
I don't get your point.
Joe
Its okay, I don't get me either.
Voice
Heh. No one gets each other, so don't worry about it.
Joe
How have you been?
Voice
I've been fine, you?
Joe
I've been lonely in my own home. No one's talking to me except when they think they could use my laptop. I don't let them because I'm tired of people thinking they can take advantage of me by me letting them use my stuff.
Voice
What's all this about?
Joe
It's about me.
Voice
That's fair. You have to have you.
Joe
Wow, its scary being rebellious but I just know its right for me.
Voice
You know what's right for you. I mean, look at your aunt. She's going back on her word on every single thing that's she's said.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Storm
I lay asleep on a slumber after a moment of wrath and anger.
The sky brew gray even in the starlit sky and I laid there, feeling a gush of angry wind rattling my window as I awoken by a scream of thunder.
My heart shuddered as I laid there, awake.
Afraid. Alone.
I knew I could escape in my sleep from the frightful rage that is the storm outside my window but the lightning flashes catches my eye before I drift away in my escape.
One flash and the face of my father appears before my eyes and his images fades away, a sullen look from his face drifts away like sand from the palm of my hand.
Another flash and the face of my sister appears before my eyes and she doesn't recognize me anymore, a puzzling look of familiarity and she fades away thinking that its just another stranger on the crossroads of her life.
Flash after flash as I try to escape, the different faces drift away with a certain look and they all do not recognize for who I am.
I am me. I am who I am and I grasp what is mine in my hands.
Flash after flash, a part of me drifts away as well. Parts of me call out to the faces, and I give myself up to them to let them know I am here. And every call is ignored as I lose a bit of myself, inch by inch, measure by measure.
I curl up like a ball, within myself, searching for something that is still left in me and all I find is nothing but an emptiness that gave me this realization that I am alone.
One by one, they all leave me and the angry storm churns and screams and howls like a lost banshee with an empty song crying out and cursing something that leads to nothing at all.
I lie awake, conscious and I scramble within myself to feel something. I touch myself, feeling the sensations creeping up my nervous system and I search for the one thing that tells me that I'm not alone but everything seem to drift away.
There's a voice, I hear it and she tells me everything is going to be okay. That an emptiness is meant to be filled with something, anything. I hold on to that and I let go of myself.
I breathe.
There is something. I felt something and I breathed.
And I laid there just filled with so much doubt and questions.
I felt angry, confused. I possessed a deep sense of hatred towards something but I don't know what and flash after flash, I strike at anything hoping to come to some justice to what I feel.
I only end up to nothing at all and the void fills me up again.
I cannot run, I cannot escape from everything that weathers against me.
Flash.
Crash.
The fluorescent hurt my eyes.
The sky brew gray even in the starlit sky and I laid there, feeling a gush of angry wind rattling my window as I awoken by a scream of thunder.
My heart shuddered as I laid there, awake.
Afraid. Alone.
I knew I could escape in my sleep from the frightful rage that is the storm outside my window but the lightning flashes catches my eye before I drift away in my escape.
One flash and the face of my father appears before my eyes and his images fades away, a sullen look from his face drifts away like sand from the palm of my hand.
Another flash and the face of my sister appears before my eyes and she doesn't recognize me anymore, a puzzling look of familiarity and she fades away thinking that its just another stranger on the crossroads of her life.
Flash after flash as I try to escape, the different faces drift away with a certain look and they all do not recognize for who I am.
I am me. I am who I am and I grasp what is mine in my hands.
Flash after flash, a part of me drifts away as well. Parts of me call out to the faces, and I give myself up to them to let them know I am here. And every call is ignored as I lose a bit of myself, inch by inch, measure by measure.
I curl up like a ball, within myself, searching for something that is still left in me and all I find is nothing but an emptiness that gave me this realization that I am alone.
One by one, they all leave me and the angry storm churns and screams and howls like a lost banshee with an empty song crying out and cursing something that leads to nothing at all.
I lie awake, conscious and I scramble within myself to feel something. I touch myself, feeling the sensations creeping up my nervous system and I search for the one thing that tells me that I'm not alone but everything seem to drift away.
There's a voice, I hear it and she tells me everything is going to be okay. That an emptiness is meant to be filled with something, anything. I hold on to that and I let go of myself.
I breathe.
There is something. I felt something and I breathed.
And I laid there just filled with so much doubt and questions.
I felt angry, confused. I possessed a deep sense of hatred towards something but I don't know what and flash after flash, I strike at anything hoping to come to some justice to what I feel.
I only end up to nothing at all and the void fills me up again.
I cannot run, I cannot escape from everything that weathers against me.
Flash.
Crash.
The fluorescent hurt my eyes.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Father
You said you’ll never leave me.
In the end, you did and reached a peak much greater than what I saw before we came to where we are.
While you’re up there, I’m still down here.
Alone and missing you.
I miss you.
You have your career, you have a family.
I don’t anymore.
I can’t even have that.
So tell me if every decision till now was ever worthwhile.
Dear Mom
Dear Mom,
I don’t hear you cry anymore. I don’t have to stay in my room where I anticipate the quiet muffles and awkwardness as I lay my head down to rest on my pillow as you and dad whisper your arguments just so I wouldn’t be hurt with the things that I might have heard.
I know your happy now. Not entirely but happier then when it was like before. You have a new life, a new kid whom I’m proud to be an older sibling to. I just can’t help shake that feeling off that you and dad left me somewhere in the remnant of an old past that you terribly don’t want to go through and forget.
I know you tell me stories that we are lucky that I didn’t have to go through the bitter arguments like my step brother does with his other family. However, you fail to see that I come to realise that the same pain still hits me as I step back to look at the bigger picture. I don’t have you and dad anymore around me.
No matter how many times I look back into my heart to make sure you and dad were there like the way you used to be, I still come back to an empty house anyway.
There’s no more dinner on the table like there used to. There’s no more whining or nagging for me to take a shower or to pray. There are no more sweet nuances that sweeten life a bit when I’m having a bad day.
I give.
You deserved to be happy after what dad put you through. You did your best during the days that you had to pull through the rough rocks of your life and I regretted not being able to help you as I just selfishly continued on to just achieve what I needed for my own.
I yearn for you to be back. I understand that you look past the mountains at where you live right now and you want me to be on the other side waiting for you to come. I so badly want to be on the other side just waiting for you to come for me.
They told me I was strong and I guess I was to be there for you and pa. But I’m not strong against this yearning for you and pa to be back like everybody else’s parents. I want to see you side by side seeing me grow and being proud together, not continents apart.
I miss you. I miss you terribly and I look up hoping that you’re on the other side of the mountain.
You’re Loving Son.
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