Feeble, frail, rancid and alive

Short Story: NUKEKUBI DREAMING

2007-06-22T19:57:00.001+08:00

Just finished the P150 chicken meal at Teriyaki Boy. God, the money you spend for food nowadays. Almost the same price for our movie ticket. But yeah, the movie we saw was stupid.
Question of the night: what superpower would you have?
You say you wish you could read people's thoughts.
Good answer.
People, realizing that it was indeed a good answer, they go: Oh yes, yes, I wish I'd have that power too.
I guess we're all too emotional nowadays. Read people's thoughts. Where's the fun in that? Me? I'm having too much fun just trying to figure you out. If you could read people's thoughts then there'd be no more secrets. No mysteries. No dark personas. Ooohh. You. Yeah, I wish I could your thoughts. What you're really saying now, what you really said then, what you mean by this and that. I guess too much fun.
What about you? What superpowers would you have?
All eyes on me now. Oh, I gotta say something cool - something deep and emotional.
Turn back time. Turn back time. Turn back time.
"Shape shift"
Sometimes we give away stupid answers so people won't figure us out completely. How I wish you gave away tons of stupid answers to me. Told you reading thoughts was no fun. But yeah, If I could just turn back time.
"Shape shift?"
"Yeah, shape shifting. Imagine, I could manipulate people to do what i want."
I never had what I want. Some things, you say just to yourself. Some people, you don't want others to hear. Like "hey, I wanna tell you something...I Lo...". Wouldn't want your friend to hear that.
Of course shape shifting isn't as cool as reading people's thoughts. That stuff is just too emotional, just can't top that one. But yeah, if I could just turn back time.
We go to Jack's Loft to get some beer. I don't know why we went there. I just go where they go. You, you don't drink much but you told me about 2 months ago you were a drunkard. See? If I could just read your thoughts. But if I could turn back time, I'd go for that.
Some things we say we really don't mean. Some things we say are metaphors. Some things we say, we say to make people think.
I look at you and you're a moving picture a mile away. Question and answer portion with friends isn't over. The beer's kinda kicking in, listening to them talk. Me? I'm still wishing to turn back time.
Rewind to about a year ago.
You've emptied the whole tissue box with your tears. I try to ask what's going on but you don't tell. How I wish I could read your mind right now. I move in closer to hold you but I don't. I pat your back. I tell you to cry. Just cry.
Some things we say are anti-cliche cliche. Reverse psychology stuff. I've never seen you cry like this.
Rewind more.
Do you like her?
No way man. We're just friends.
Some things we say, they come back to haunt us.
Fast forward to Jack's Loft.
Lookin' at myself at the mirror, I still wonder what things would be like if I had turned back time. Water bits dripping at the side of my cheeks. If I could just read your thoughts.
Yeah. If I could just read your thoughts. If I could have just read your thoughts then you wouldn't be telling me that you only consider me as a friend 2 months from now. I would be dreaming about you for 2 weeks after that. People wouldn't be asking what we talked about and where I go from there.
Yeah. If I could have just read your thoughts then I would know what you really meant when you said you were drunkard and you changed alot and this and that and everything. I wouldn't have gone sleepless for 4 months.
If I could have just read your thoughts then I could have said the right words and not just some anti-cliche cliche, reverse psychology stuff and pat you in the back.
If I could have just read your thoughts. Oh well, I guess it's too late to wish for that and now I'm wanting to turn back time.
Turn back time.
Kiss your lips.
Hold you warm.
Turn back time. Kiss your lips. Hold you warm.
Turn back time. Kiss your lips. Hold you warm.
Turn back time. Kiss your lips. Hold you warm.
Turn back time. Kiss your lips. Hold you warm.
Turn back time. Kiss your lips. Hold you warm. Make you mine.
Some things we say, we say until we sleep.
Some things we say, we say all night.

Short Story: BREAK

2007-06-22T19:57:00.000+08:00

"Put your backs into it", one member tells the others.
Dead bodies are always hard to carry around. Must be because of all that dead weight. Haha. But if you see 20 guys transport body bags back and forth, you wouldn't think it was that hard.
The group has been digging dead bodies last week. We collected about a hundred. What are the bodies for? We are filling train tracks so nobody could use the trains tomorrow. They either walk or take the jeepney like the others. Teams were assigned to do different stations. We're here in Katipunan. 2:00-4:00am is a great time to do these kinds of stuff. About 8, 9, 10 cars pass by an hour. Drivers would either be too drunk or too sleepy to notice anything. No one passing around. If ever there was one, the very security guard that is assigned to this station would put up his shotgun against the poor stranger’s face. Oh yeah, the group had members employed as security guards. You see, these things are what we call “organized chaos”. Haha.
A few hours after this, employees are going to find the security guards gagged, bound, tied and beat up inside the public comfort rooms. Police are going to come in, ask questions and they all have the same answer: “There were 20,30 of them. They were armed. They threatened our lives.” Yeah, these guards are mostly the same. The only difference they have is whether they are members or not. If they weren’t, then they wouldn’t be lying. Media people come in and they report train tracks filled with dead bodies and they ask their audience “Who would do such a thing?” People who would do such a thing are already on their way to switch the newest DVD releases of some record bar with pornographic films. Imagine the lawsuits that record bar will get. And the media people are going to report this and they ask the same question.

Oh yeah, the group has been in and out of the news. They just can’t pinpoint who are doing these things.
Remember that teenage model that was gang-raped by her own bodyguards? I was the driver and look-out. God, did she scream for help.
Remember all those billboards of disabled men along EDSA? The caption says it all: “PLEASE FUCK US”. You’d see those freaks in Cubao everyday. People see these kinds of things and they ask themselves: “who would do such a thing?” Such a thing like exploiting the “unfortunate” and “disabled”? The “gifted”!? I don’t know who’s more funny – them or me. Ha. Screw them. Yeah, along with those freaks. They have no idea what we’re fighting for. Don’t they see that it’s them exploiting these people? If they haven’t treated them like they were charity cases then they wouldn’t be feeling so sorry for themselves. Calling retards “gifted”, oh, fuck me. Where’s the gift in that? Can’t speak one straight sentence. Can’t take care of his stupid retard self. Who would ever dream of marrying a retard huh? Where’s the fucking gift in that? People today talk about peace and equality and morality as they step on others and arm themselves. Like I said, I don't know who's more funny.

I think by now you got an idea of what the group has been looking for.
If you want to destroy society, the group wants you.
If you want to fight conformity, the group wants you.
If you want to break civilization, the group wants you.
“Hey! You brought the sign?” a member yells to me. He must have found the security camera. Cameras are a great of way of getting your messages across. Like putting up a sign that says “I guess they missed the train”. Haha – dead people missing the train. The group also wants people with some sense of humor. Yeah. If you’re funny and bitter and angry and lonely and empty, the group wants you.
You’d meet different kinds of people in the group.
There are those who hate their jobs.
There are those who hate their bosses.
There are those who hate their wives.
There are those who hate their families.
There are those who hate their friends. Or they’re just tired of them.
Come to think of it, people don’t join the group with their friends. I guess joining the group is more of an "individual choice".

You never know who’s a member or not. I go to school and I look at janitors and guards and I ask myself if they’re one of us. I wouldn’t know until I see them at meetings. Oh yeah, group meetings. The group meets at least once a week, actually depends of how big a “project” is. If there are no projects or activities, the group meets and members brainstorm. The group then picks the best ideas and others are thrown outta the window. The group has had lots of ideas.
Those glass shards conveniently placed at the bottom of car wheels? That idea took out a whole parking lot.
Some kids who think they’re tough and smart do it just for kicks. They’re smart enough to get caught by the police. We have to thank them though. They provide us distraction. Not that we need it. You see a crappy country like this is the best brooding place for anarchy. Pissed off people, crappy police investigations, crappy media, crappy government, paradise.

Police would never know it was the group who put all those bodies in there.
That the seaplane that crashed into the Mall of Asia never really went out of control.
That the car explosions in the Manila Hotel parking lot were never really an accident.
All these got reported by the media but investigations were always faulty. It’s the very system we want to destroy that's helping us.
Not all group projects make it to the news though. Not all of them are train-tracks-filled-with-dead-bodies big. Some members, they act independently or with only a few others involved. So even us never really know who did what. Not all of them make the news but are enough to create such a fuss.
Remember that HIV guy who mixed considerable amount of blood into ketchup bottles at fast food restaurants? He’s my hero.
Those who splashed paint all over the Spoliarium?
That guy who chopped Rizal’s head off at Luneta Park? Too bad he got shot.
Those exhibitionists at overpasses?
Those waiters who jack off and blow their load all over your burgers?
Those castrated men who snuck into last year’s oblation run?
That college kid who wrote short stories about us? One day went berserk, killing other college kids and himself?

Short Story: FUEL

2007-03-05T18:43:00.000+08:00

I
I’m driving. I never drive. I know how to but I don’t. I never drive but I am now – 120 kilometers per hour on the endless concrete stretch of this seemingly abandoned expressway. I smell good and fresh and there’s a gym bag full of clothes in the backseat. I must be headed somewhere. I must be headed somewhere but I don’t seem to know where. I’ve been sleepless for 4 months now and the thing with insomnia is you’re never really awake nor asleep. You’re in 3D dreamland wishing you were asleep and then you snap out of your senses thinking “How’d I get here?” This is not something new to me.

My phone rings and my arms stretch a mile away to the dashboard. My phone’s LCD tells me it’s Monique calling. Monique? But how? It can’t be. It can’t be her. The ring dies and I’m still wondering if it was Monique who called – the thing with insomnia is you think something is one thing and you close and rub your eyes and you snap out of your hallucination to realize what it really is. There’s a call again and the LCD still reads Monique. I rub my eyes. I shouldn’t be doing this while driving but I am – still Monique. I pick the phone up.
Hello? Hello. She’s panting, breathing heavily, catching her breath for the next word. I still can’t believe it’s her. No. It can’t be her.
“Have you heard about Eileen?” it IS Monique.
I go speechless. Eileen?
The name refreshes my memory as if the insomnia never happened and I remember everything and everything’s all clear to me now.

II
I’ve been sleepless for a month now and I should be crying.
About Monique.
About my miserable life.
About me never getting what I want.
I should be crying right now but I’m not and I’m angry and frustrated and irrational and throwing myself around the four walls of my room. I should be crying right now, thinking about how Monique and her boyfriend are probably celebrating somewhere, fucking each other because it’s their first “month-sary”. We celebrate too much nothing nowadays, you know.
The thing with insomnia is you get attacked by words and thoughts and twisted thoughts and mumbled, jumbled words all at once at every fucking direction.
Why him?
I guess you’re not who I thought you were.
He’ll just dump you once he’s done with you.
Why did you have to change?
And why now?
I hate you.
I love you.
So much.
I love you so much.
If you could just know.
I masturbate.
Masturbation helps. Especially when you’re body’s tired from the lack of rest and God’s simply not there to listen to you beg for sleep. I come. I come and all the tension and little energy I’ve left goes with it as my eyes twitch while electricity goes to down to my legs and after that I drown in a sea of bed and blankets to grant me about 2 hours of sleep. I have to get up by 5. I don’t want to miss school.

III
Eileen tells me I look like a zombie.
Yeah. More like limp, lifeless, piercing cold flesh, formalin battery-powered zombie. I don’t tell her this. What I do tell her is that I haven’t been having my beauty sleep and I crack a smile with my dry, chapped lips.
“You also haven’t been eating much lately”, she says.
What the fuck do you care?
I say, “Oh, you noticed?”
“You still thinking about her?” she asks.
Yeah. And I’m miserable.
“It’s been 2 months you know. I think you should move on” – there goes Eileen’s daily friendly advice. “Well, yeah, I know.”
Vikki arrives and pulls a seat beside Eileen. “Have you seen Mike?” I ask.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eileen asks.
“Mike. I’m talking about Mike”, I say.
A mouth opens and a voice comes out, “Are you serious?” it’s Mike. It’s Mike and it’s not Vikki. “I, uh, didn’t notice.”
Mike laughs it off.
Yeah. Laugh it off.

IV
“You shouldn’t be drinking too much beer you know…”
It’s Monique. This has been the only time we could talk – beer and parties.
“Beer helps me sleep”, I say.
“Oh ok. Are you down with insomnia or something?”, she asks.
Yeah, and for 3 months now, no thanks to you.
“No. I just want to get more sleep. You don’t wake up easily when you’re down with beer, you know.”
Her fuck of a boyfriend is across the room flirting with some girl who’s got a C-cup bra. And Monique’s here by my side, flirting with me. You fucking whore. I love you.
“I might have to drive you home if you get too drunk”, she says. You fucking whore.
“Eileen says I could drink all the beer I want and she’ll drive me home”, stupid, stupid thing to say.
“Oh, ok. So you and Eileen, you got something going?” she asks.
“No, we’re just friends”, I say.
She scoffs and sips a bit off her drink and says “well, I’ve heard a lot of that lately.”
Yeah. You and dickwad there used to be such good friends.
“No really, we’re just friends.”

V
“There’s this mnemonic, DIGFAST, and I got every symptom except for A which stands for Activity Increased…”
I’m talking to Eileen who’s driving me home. Telling her about this article I saw on the net about manic depression. I really hate what I’m going through right now. I hate Monique and I hate her boyfriend. I hate the fact that I love her. I hate my stupid life. I never had what I want but people everywhere are off taking it for granted. Give me what I want. Give me what I want, for a change. Give me what I want.
I continue talking, “I haven’t been sleeping and eating much and I think I’m having hallucinations and I’ve become belligerent and irritable and violent and sometimes I just want to hurt someone.” I’ve been masturbating more frequently too.
“And now you’re paranoid”, Eileen tells me as she gives me a smirk.
Blank piercing hateful stare.
“I was trying to make you laugh”, she says.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Just go drive”, I say.
Sometimes I just want to hurt someone. Out of the blue. Let it all out. Snap and scream and cry and shout and get mad and hurt someone. Give me what I want, for a change.

VI
Hollywood makes the world go fucking round. And actors and movie-stars who know how to use their 6-inch cocks and where to put them are our gods and the whole world is their sex slave. I’m outside a convenience store drowning myself in beer. There’s a party I didn’t throw at my house as I speak but I don’t want to get anywhere near that filth of a whorehouse right now. Eileen’s beside me and she tries to take the beer can out of my hand and she says it’s too much beer even for me.
"What the fuck do you care?” I shove her off as I defend for my beer. “YOU NEVER CAUGHT THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE FUCKING HER BOYFRIEND IN YOUR OWN ROOM!”
Eileen was going to take me to my room and get me to sleep for I had too much beer and was thrashing every inch of furniture in my house. She takes me to my room and she turns the knob and pushes the door and Monique and her boyfriend are there fucking. Great. Just great. Be my guests.
“Then why couldn’t you move on?” she asks and she stands for a more dramatic effect.
“Because I love her! I LOVE HER!” I stand for a much more dramatic effect and I’m shouting and everything is thrown out of the window. I’m not making any sense.
“BUT SHE MAKES YOU MISERABLE!” Eileen shout-replies. The cashier inside the store is watching his favorite after-midnight drama series.
“SO WHAT? SO-WHAT? SHE CAN GO FUCK EVERYONE OUT THERE BUT I’LL-STILL-LOVE-HER!” I’m not making any sense. “AND IF RUNNING TOWARDS HER WOULD MEAN RUNNING TOWARDS MY OWN SELF-DESTRUCTION THEN IT'LL BE ME COLLIDING HEAD-ON WITH DISASTER!” Eileen tries to open her mouth but I continue talking. “AND SHE…SHE COULD GIVE UP ON ME FOR ALL I CARE. SHE COULD GIVE UP ON ME AND STEP ON ME AND PUSH ME AND SPIT ON ME BUT I’LL STILL LOVE HER AND I WILL NEVER-EVER GIVE UP ON HER.”
“BUT WHY ARE YOU DROWNING YOURSELF IN BEER THEN?” she makes complete sense.

I sit down, lifeless, empty stoic stare on concrete parking floor. “Because beer helps. Make me forget. It makes everything surreal. It’s petrifying…” I cry. It’s been about 4 months now that I should’ve been crying and I’m crying in front of a convenience store with a cashier watching. Eileen sits down beside me and pats me in the back. I feel like vomiting.
“You know, there might be someone out there for you. Someone who’s going to take care of you and sit beside you when you cry…”, another one of her friendly advices.
“I don’t know. I’m not very sure of my life right now. But if there’s something better than this, I wouldn’t want that right now. If I were to choose between Monique and happiness, I’ll choose her. And if there really is somebody out there for me, then I guess I’m sorry for her, I’ve stopped looking”, every word I say drains me. I feel like vomiting. Eileen’s head tilts down towards the same concrete parking floor I’ve been scratching with my stare.
“You know those stories wherein happy endings get killed?” I don’t think she’s listening to my nonsense. “I’d kill my own happy ending…”, I really feel like vomiting.
“You really have to be this dense huh?” Eileen mumbles. She was saying something else but I wouldn’t remember. I guess it was a bad time to vomit.

VII
I wake up and my eyes roll and roam and I realize I’m in somebody else’s room. Scissors and art paper and other art stuff is on the table beside the bed. A cutter is beside the lampshade. How convenient. I sit myself up and I smell like vomit and my vision is blurry. I’ve had too much beer and I’m drunk but I’m still able to get hold of the cutter.
I push the blade out.
I hate my life. I hate my stupid, stupid life.
The cutter is on my wrist and soon the blade will be tearing through my skin. This wouldn’t really hurt. Death has to be better than this.
Deliver me from pain and suffering.
Deliver me from love and hate.
Deliver me from my emotions.
The door opens and Monique comes in, cup of coffee in her hands. “You should drink this…” I put the cutter back where I found it.
Monique? I’m in Monique’s room? Since when did I join your fuck list? I take the cup of coffee out of her hands and put it beside the lampshade.
“Are you ok now?” she asks. I’m in complete disbelief. I must be hallucinating. I’ve had too much beer and I’m drunk. Too drunk. “Let’s get you out of those clothes…” She takes hold of my shirt and I raise my arms to help her pull my vomit-smell shirt out. I’m drunk and I’m sleepless and I’m neither awake nor asleep and I’m really not aware of what’s happening around me. I’m hallucinating and out of control and I kiss her.
She gets startled but she kisses me back. You fucking whore.
I lie her down and unzip my pants as she takes off her top and bra. We kiss and it’s the greatest kiss I’ve ever had and ever will have. I take her pants and panties off and she’s naked and beautiful and I fuck her and I love her and I fuck her harder.
She moans and she tells me she loves me. You fucking whore. Don’t tell me you love me. You don’t love me. I love you. And now is the only chance I could ever have you. After this, you’ll go back to fucking your boyfriend in my room. I stretch my hands towards the lampshade and I get hold of the cutter beside it, beside the cup of coffee. How convenient.
“I love you, I love you…”, she moans repeatedly.
You fucking whore. You don’t love me. I love you. I hate you. I hate your boyfriend. I hate my life. I love you. So much. I love you so much.

VIII
“Hello? Hello? Are you there?”
It was Monique on the other end of the line and I’m driving. 120 kilometers per hour on the endless concrete stretch of this seemingly abandoned expressway. “Hello?”, it was Monique and I believe it.
“Uh, yeah…I’m just, uh… in shock.”
I guess everybody has an idea of where the cutter went.
If I were to choose between her and happiness, I’ll choose her.
I was drunk and I vomited on my self and my shirt in front of a convenience store.
And if there really is somebody out there for me, I guess I’m sorry for her, I’ve stopped looking.
Eileen took me to her apartment and to her room knowing that I didn’t want to go to my filth of a house where I caught Monique and her boyfriend fucking.
You know those stories wherein happy endings get killed?
I wasn’t in Monique’s room. I was in Eileen’s. Eileen brought me a cup of coffee and took me out of my vomit-smell shirt and I was drunk and hallucinating.
I’d kill my own happy ending.
She was my happy ending – Eileen.
She was my happy ending and I killed her. And now I’m running, escaping.
“Hey, are you ok?” Monique’s blood-filled live face asks.
A few seconds of silence and everything is thrown out of the window.
“I love you…”
“What?” she asks. For the first time in the last 4 months I’m thinking clearly and she’s asking me “what?”
“I love you…”

ANG DAHILAN KO AY SILA [Dahilan ni Walang Ngalan]

2007-01-15T18:50:00.000+08:00

Ika'y mag-isa
Sa mundong paniwala mo'y ikaw ang may gawa
Pero tama
'Wag kang mamuhay kung saan ika'y patuloy na nasasaktan
Ngunit ano ang 'yong dahilan?
Malamig ang 'yong buto
Balat mo'y nangingilo
Baga't puso mo'y natutuyo
'Yan ang 'yong dahilan?
'Wag kang umasang ika'y aking hahalikan
Hahalikan at hahagkan
Ng dahil lamang sa iyong mga dahilan
Ano nga ulit ang 'yong dahilan?Paki-ulit nga sa akin kung ano ang iyong mga dahilan
Nanlalamig ang 'yong buto?Balat mo ay nangingilo?Baga't puso mo'y nanunuyo?
IYAN BA ANG IYONG DAHILAN!?
Pakinggan mo ang iyong mga dahilan!
'Wag ka nang magsalita at hindi mo naman talaga alam
'Pagkat 'di mo naiintindihan
Hindi mo ba naiintindihan?
Hindi mo naiintindihan?
Hindi mo naiintindihan.
Hindi mo naiintindihan...
HINDI
MO
NAIINTINDIHAN

H'wag
'Wag na 'wag kang magsasalita
'Pagkat sila'y patuloy na nakikinig
Dahil ayaw kanilang marinig
Sila'y patuloy ring naghihintay
Patuloy na naghihintay NG dahilan
Ano ang kanilang dahilan?
Ang dahilan nila'y IKAWAng dahilan nila'y siya, ang dahilan nila'y siya
Ang dahilan nila'y SILASILA MISMO
NGAYON ISIPIN MOANO NGA ULIT ANG DAHILAN MO?
ANG NAIINTINDIHAN MONG DAHILAN MO
DAHILAN KO!?ANG DAHILAN KO AY IISA
ANG DAHILAN KO AY SILA

PARANOID

2006-10-28T18:14:00.000+08:00

Every picture
Every look
Every word
Everytime

All the blood
All the brains
All the thoughts
All the time

Who are you
Who am I
Where are we
I don't know

What I know
Is not true
Nor false
All I know is
It is what I don't know

Who was I and who were you
Who are we now
Tell me and I know I won't listen
Because I don't wanna hear the truth
Live in the fantasy wherein you are a God
Live in the fantasy where everything is mine
Live in the fantasy wherein time controls absolutely nothing
Live in the fantasy WHEREIN YOU AND ME AREN'T EVEN THERE

Scream
On the very top of your lungs
Supersonic
Silent
And dead
Who are you
I wish you were dead
Who am I
I wish I was dead
Where are we
I wish we were dead
I don't know
Maybe we're dead
What I know is not true
But are we really dead?
Nor false
I can't tell...
All I know is
We're dead
It is what I don't know
The fact that I'm dead

There are no facts.

Kasabay Nating Umiikot ang Mundo

2006-10-15T19:42:00.000+08:00

Tok, tok, tok
Ako ay kumakatok
Nasasaiyo ba ang hinahanap ko?
Tok, tok, tok
Ako ay kumakatok
Halika rito't may ibubulong ako
...
'Di mo narinig 'no?
Pero narinig mo nga ba ang tok, tok, tok?

Nakikinig ka pa ba?
Unti-unti nang natatapos ang palabas ko
Tumatanda na ang sirko
Nauubos ang dialogo
Ang iyong imahe'y patuloy na naglalaho
Kinusot ko'ng mata ko pero hindi
Hindi sila malabo
Tok, tok, tok
Patuloy ang pagkatok
Katok ng katok, katok ng katok
Nariyan kaya?
Baka naman wala
Nasaan kaya
Hindi naman kaya...

Ha, sige lang
Tuloy ang panaginip
Tuloy ang ilusyon
Hala tawa!
Tumawa tayo ng tumawa
Tawa! Sige! Tumawa ka!
Ano tapos ka na?
Eh bakit ka nga ba tumatawa?
Kumakatok ako 'di ba?
Sagutin mo'ng pinto!
Tawa ka ng tawa habang ako'y kumakatok!
Tawa ka ng tawa habang ako'y nagtatanong!
Ayaw bang papigil ng iyong imahinasyon?
Dumilat ka't burahin ang ilusyon
Ngayon, tingnan mo
Tingnan mo ang mata ko
Sila'y nagsasalita
Ano? Nababasa mo ba'ng mga sinasabi nila?
Natural hindi

Tok, tok, tok

Ako ay kumakatok
Tok, tok, tok
Pakinggan mong maigi ang katok!
Tok, tok, tok
Walang tigil na pagkatok
Tok, tok, tok, tok, tok, tok

Catharsis

2006-10-01T12:21:00.000+08:00

My eyes are saying something
Can you read it?
My lips are itching
I wanna tell you something
Listen to me, lend me your ears
I've been wanting to say this

I...I...

"Anywhere, everywhere... anytime"
"There are things I don't know about you"
"Use your Inference"
"No, it's nothing"
"Things you don't know about me"
Frustrated paranoid metaphors
Ton-heavy steel diaphragm
Monosaccharide pseudo-kiss
Cybernetic virtual imagery
Confused deluded pair

What was it that you wanted to tell me?
Nothing, wasn't important anyway.

The Beer Bottle Truth

2006-09-28T22:15:00.000+08:00

I:
Aren't you something now
You're shining, glowing
Let me touch your cheeks...
NO! Hell NO!
Putrid, rancid fingers might soil my pristine marble smile
Ah, the elegiac loss of a bipolar's deluded radioactive persona

II:
You and I
We're not very different, you and I
...fiber-optically weaved by God's hands...
You and I
We're never the same, you and I

III:
A monosaccharide kiss - sweet and awful
[no, not at the same time]
Next time you kiss me make sure you use your tongue
We're all convinced THAT'S WHAT IT'S MADE FOR
NOW THE DEAFENING SILENCE BLINDS YOU, I SAY
COME TO ME AND SPEAK LIKE YOU HAVE NEVER SPOKEN BEFORE, YOU SAY
BUT IT'LL ONLY BE THE BEER BOTTLE TRUTH!
It'll only be the beer bottle truth
Nothing but the beer bottle truth...

Angry and agitated and cold and belligerent and frustrated and irrational
Shh... we're gonna hurt someone.

LADY MUSHROOM FRIEND

2006-08-02T02:06:00.000+08:00

Pucker up.
Ready for the aftertaste?
What's in your head?
I think I know but I can't really tell...

(How sweet...I want more)
How was it?
Is it in your head?
I think so but I can't really tell?

Your memory juxtaposed with theirs...
Should I dream about you or not?
I think I should
But I won't really tell

Talambuhay ni Walang Ngalan

2006-06-28T23:29:00.000+08:00

Nalilito nang 'di nag-iisip
Hirap huminga - dibdib ay masikip
Subukan mong hawakan ngunit ika'y takot
Subukan mong habulin, alam mo namang 'di ka aabot

Paano nga ba baybayin ang salita ng baga?
Ni hindi mo nga alam kung saan ito nagmumula
Ipikit ang iyong mata
Subukang gumuhit ng mukha
Putol-putol ang linya ng lapis mo

Subukan mong hawakan, biglang mawawala
Subukan mong habulin, nagbabakasakali, nag-aakala
Subukan mong ibuka ang iyong bibig at magsalita
Hangin ang ilalabas ng iyong bunganga

Mawala sa sarili
Maglasing nang mag-isa
Amuyin ang puno
Kumain ng dikya
Tumakbo nang malayo
Punasan ang pawis
Pagurin ang sarili
Patigilin ang isip

Huminga nang malalim
Huminga ng huminga ng huminga ng huminga
Hindi pa 'yan sapat
Sige huminga ka pa

Mawala sa sarili
Maglasing nang mag-isa
Amuyin ang puno
Kumain ng dikya
Tumakbo nang malayo
Punasan ang pawis
Tumakbo nang malayo
Punasan ang pawis!
Punasan ang pawis
Punasan ang pawis
PUNASAN-MO-ANG-IYONG-PAWIS
Pagurin ang sarili
Patigilin ang isip

Patigilin ang isip dahil hindi mo nga masasabi
At marahil kailanma'y hindi mo malalaman
Kapag tumayo ang lahat at sinabi ang kanilang pangalan
Kapag tumayo ang lahat at ipinakilala ang kanilang pangalan
Ika'y maiiwang tahimik dahil hindi mo nalalaman
Hindi mo nalalaman ang sarili mong pangalan
Ah...ah...
Wala
Wala kang pangalan
Hinga ka ng hinga, wala itong magagawa
Hinga ka ng hinga, ang patutunguhan nito'y wala
Wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala, wala
Wala, wala, wala, wala, wala
Ano ba 'yan...napapagod na 'ko kakasabi ng wala.

Poot

2006-06-11T11:22:00.000+08:00

Lahat ng iyong salita'y hindi na naging tama
Lahat ng iyong pangungusap ay lagi na lang mali
Ang natatanging tenga ay ang sa salamin
Huminga ng malalim, huminga ng malalim
Walang magagawa ang paghinga ng malalim
Walang magagawa ang kahit ano
Ibaon ang sarili sa gitna ng hangin
Bumuntong hininga upang makawala sa kanyang pain

Vertebrate

2006-05-04T01:56:00.000+08:00

I stick my tongue out and taste the skin
The flavor has faded
The body flops with every gust of wind
Floating bloated on a river

My Cute Little Snow Flake II

2006-05-03T04:31:00.000+08:00

The mango juice was the only glass left on our table.
“Here, have some pig…”
“I’m sorry but I don’t eat pig”
“Just take a bite…it’s quite tasty actually.”
“Alright, just a single bite ha…”
“Here”
“It’s a secret ha?”
“Huh? Ok.”
High Five
“Do you want me to talk to him?”

"Huh? No, he’s ok na."
“Really? If that’s what you say.”
“Could you write about me?”

"You could go to my website…"

"Don’t worry, it’s ok na"
“Really? If that’s what you say.”
“It’s a secret ha?”
High Five
“Here, have some pig…”
“Alright, just a single bite ha…”
“Huh? Ok.”
“Could you write about me?”
“Huh? Ok.”
High Five
“It’s a secret ha?”
“Really? If that’s what you say.”

Baby Hiccups

2006-05-02T02:41:00.000+08:00

Aluminum cheeks slapped - nothing
Doesn't rust without contact
Overdosed muscular machine
The jaws lock without contracting

You should kill me in the morning, you know
It hurts more that way...
I don't want you to make me laugh tonight
(That wouldn't be fun)

The party vomits on the bathroom tile
It sleeps at around 2:30 in the morning
And now her nipples are hard as a pebble,
She's gonna enjoy our sex

Sa Iyong Pagtulog

2006-04-28T02:58:00.000+08:00

Ang liwanag ng iyong kwarto ay nanggagaling sa apoy ng kandilang may gulang na 5 araw
Mabango at malinis ang paligid – Ineengganyo kang matulog at managinip kasama ang iyong mga mahal sa buhay
Kaya’t inaya mo silang sumama sa iyo sa paraiso at sila nama’y sumunod
Ngunit nang hawakan mo ang kanilang mga kamay ay nalaman mong sila ay multo
Mga multong nag-aakala na sila ay buhay
Tiningnan mo ang sarili mong mga kamay at ipinaraan ang mga daliri sa iyong mainit na pisngi
Nangiti ka – Ikaw ay buhay
Natuwa ka, natawa ka
Ngunit napatigil ang iyong pagtawa nang makita mo ang iyong mga mahal sa buhay
Sila ay patay
Unti-unti nang nauubos ang kanilang mga ala-ala kasama ng kanilang laman
Nabubura ang kanilang itsura
Sinubukan mo silang habulin ngunit sila’y tumakbo palayo
Tinawag mo sila pero ano nga ba ang kanilang mga pangalan?
HINDI MO ALAM
Hindi sa nakalimutan mo kundi hindi mo lang talaga alam
Nalungkot ka, umiyak ka
Sa pagpatak ng luha sa lupa ay naghanap ka ng dahilan
Dahilan sa iyong pag-iyak
Bakit nga ba?
Walang dahilan para umiyak
Nakita mong muli ang mga taong iyong tinangkang habulin kanina
Sino sila?
Hindi mo sila nakikilala.
Sinubukan ka nilang hawakan pero nalaman nila na ikaw ay multo
Multong nag-aakala na siya’y buhay
Tiningnan mo ang sarili mong mga kamay – wala kang mga kamay
Sumigaw ka ngunit wala kang nadinig
Hindi sa hindi ka na nakakarinig kundi hindi ka na nakakasigaw
Sinubukan mong umiyak muli
Ngunit wala ngang dahilan para umiyak
Isa pa, hindi ka na rin nakakaiyak
Inantok ka, humiga ka
Ito na lang yata ang puwede mong gawin
Ang liwanag na nanggagaling sa kandilang may gulang na 5 araw ay unti-unti nang kinakain ng kadiliman
Sa iyong pagtulog ay ipikit mo ang iyong nagdurugong mata
Matulog nang walang pangamba
Matulog ka ng walang liwanag o dilim na nakikita
Ipaghehele kita
Matulog ka.

Ang Mahabang Hatinggabi (Na Kung Tawagin ay Buhay)

2006-03-09T21:17:00.000+08:00

Oh Paraiso
Subukan man kitang hawakan
Ay makakalmot lang ng aking daliri ang usok na anak ng isip
Sinubukin ko itong langhapin at nabulag ako sa pangarap na 'di ko inakalang akin
MANONOOD
Dumilat ka't lahat ay mawawala
Pumikit ka't wala kang makikita

Oh Paraiso
Pakiramdaman mo ang yakap kong kukulay sa iyong balat
Sa pagpisil ng aking braso ay ilabas mo ang tunay mong ilusyon:
Sugatan mo ako; ako ay magdurugo
Sugatan mo ako at AKO AY MAGDURUGO!
Ipikit mo ang aking mata upang ako ay magising palabas ng iyong telebisyon
Pigain mo ang dugong nalalabi sa aking puso
Halikan mo ang aking noo
At ipatak ang iyong luha sa aking labi
OO! Nalalaman ko!
Nalalaman ko ang totoo!
Nalalaman ko!
Nalalaman ko na:
Sadyang mahaba ang hatinggabi
At ang paghihintay ay walang ibibigay kundi antok
Habang ang pisngi ay umaasa sa pangako
Na sisikat rin ang araw
Upang ibigay at ipaalam
Ang mgay bagay na 'di ko nalalaman
Ang mga bagay na 'di natin nalalaman
Oh Araw
Ibigay mo, Ipaalam mo
Ang mga bagay na 'di ko nalalaman
Upang aking kalimutan.

Ang Hinagpis ni Tao

2006-03-09T16:11:00.000+08:00

Regalo mo'y di na kailangang alugin
Saya ang maramdaman nang matanggap
Salamat.

Ngunit ano ba ang Iyong inakala?
Na ako ay tulad Mo?
Ang dibdib ko ay gawa sa laman!
'Di tulad ng pader;
Matitibag sa martilyong kamao
Masusugat sa hiwa ng patalim

Magulang na nawalay sa anak
Lumuhod ka at umiyak
'Di ako maaawa
Pero ako ay humihingi ng paumanhin
Paumanhin at hindi ko maibigay ang Iyong hinihingi
Ngunit hindi ko sinasadya
Tandaan mo:
Hindi ko ito sinasadya.

My Cute Little Snow Flake

2005-11-10T17:45:00.000+08:00

Touch my lips with yours then read it.
Cut you out with oxygen, feel me around your triceps
Enjoy fingers running through your scalp as you palm the comb
Show me the labyrinth of your thoughts as I engrave my tomb

...with your name.

My cute little snow flake
Breathe into me and give me life.

Yellow Green

2005-11-10T17:41:00.000+08:00

Knife stabbed on the middle of the chest
Can't feel it lest see it
I'm missing you and i'm getting hungry
I have a rubber chest
every bone should not have been crushed.

I should be playing by the fields right now
But i dont feel like it
Everybody's having the time of their lives.

Breastfeed me
My lips are longing for your swelled nipples
Look, i have my lips sticking out.

Death flew right past me
Failed to see it lest feel it
Product: A wound-up toy running low on batteries.

Sunday was the day i was brought back to life (I was eating breakfast)
Come Saturday: the day I died. (I was eating breakfast too, how ironic)
Have been lying on a yellow green cloud for 2 1/2 years
and got up by mid february.
Used to count the numbers but i've used all ten fingers.
Laughter.
Smiles.
A catch of breath.
Sleep.
Ink on paper.
Pillows.
Triumph.
Defeat.
Life.
Death.

A wound-up toy running low on batteries.
Ai..ai...ai...ai...ai...ai...ai...aia.

Tired

2005-10-18T11:32:00.000+08:00

Phantasmal, Ghastly; Common denominator: TIRED
I'm floating through the thin helium encompassing thick oxygen
I'm breathing... each unce of air pricks through the surfaces of the lung.
Phantasmal, Ghastly; TIRED

Three-Day Week

2005-06-27T07:48:00.000+08:00

Chest muscles hurt.
Degaradation of my superficial being.
Braindead. Numb.
Let's get this day over with.

Marriage of cotton and skin - a beautiful sight
Try to spark fire with a match and you'll be blinded by the light.

Victim of entropy, indestructible by nature.
Torn into pieces, reconstructible by feature.

Hapo

2005-05-26T10:02:00.000+08:00

Sa iyong paningin, ako ay nanlulumo
Ngunit hindi mo naiiintindihan na ang katawan ko ay hapo sapagkat ito ay buhay
Ang balat ko ay mainit
Ngunit ang dugo nananalaytay sa aking ugat ay malamig
At tama ka, ang laman ko ay nangingilo

Manhid ang kamay, blanko ang pag-iisip
Walang pag-asang humihinga
Walang kabuhay-buhay na namamatay

Sa pagtapak ng aking talampakan sa buhangi'y
Binubura ng alon ang alaala nito
Sa paghila ng lubid
ay ang paghatak ng tubig
Lunurin mo ako
Sa ilusyon
Sa pangarap
Sa pag-ibig
Bulagin mo ako
Sa langit at impierno
Sa pag-asa ng panghabang buhay
Hindi mo ba makita?
Ako ay nanlulumo pagkat ang mundo ay hapo.

Dissident

2005-05-23T08:21:00.000+08:00

A state of megalomania has been ended
Voices have settled down

To see is to reveal dementia:
The decadence of celestial beings
And the delusion of synthetic standards

A blatant display of fickleness-to some may seem sinister
As my being crumbles, all the fervor I had has deteriorated into apathy
Nothing more can be offered
Nothing more to have me scared
To you it's supersonic, to me it's nothing more than silence

The clock ticks without me knowing
The knife twists without me dying

Whore

2005-05-10T18:31:00.000+08:00

Animation: Blank
Sensation: Blank
To live is derogatory
And to die is superlative
Animalistic behavior devoids humanity
As it feeds on unquenchable desire
Parasitic exchange although it normally benefits both parties
A cascade of moans, sweat, blood and individuality
Sin vacuums time and existence
For the host it produces food
But to live is derogatory
And to die is superlative.

No Nirvana

2005-05-10T16:43:00.000+08:00

A butterfly dies when it lays eggs
A dragonfly dies reaching its dreams
Trapped, walled by a spherical form of habitat
To struggle will not get anything anywhere

Too vulnerable-too human
Hold me and feel me running short of life
Along with every cosmic formation tangible, pencil drawings are too be erased

A deadly virus, a continuous form of pestilence
A lose-lose situation, for it is inevitable too be human
Forced to be part of this surreal fantasy and be stuck and lost in it

Forever we would seem to be together
But I have been able to deteriorate my being
The sole of my feet burns--too agitated to dive outside and swim myself toward the surface of oblivion

There would be no blowing wind on my cheeks
No feeling of accomplishments
Nor success nor failure
No knowledge of my vertebraic being
No love nor hate
No tears nor laughter
No sadness nor joy
No nirvana.

Total eradication.

The Ink On My Notes

2005-04-28T11:56:00.000+08:00

Two and a half years is the lifespan of an exactly eighteen year old girl
Her birth was on a yellow green sunday;
Her death was on a dadaic saturday.
Saw her ghost on a dirty thursday:
Saw nothing but her skinless jaw,
Her ever unseeeing eyes
And the forever promise of happiness
As we were two finite entities - six meters too far.
A pessimistic heart is blood-empty
And is nothing more than aorta and ventricle.
Scoff as the feeble body meanders on soulless corridors,
trying to ferment rancid brain with phantasmal images.
Now I bask along God's holy zephyr,
Waiting for emancipation.

Bilog

2005-04-28T11:51:00.000+08:00

Tingnan mo ako oh dakilang tao
Ikaw at ako, ako at ikaw
Pareho tayo
Ang pintig ng pulso ko'y tibok ng puso mo
Sa isang panghabang buhay na paglalakbay
Marami ka mang nalalaman ay wala kang naiintindihan
Dahil isang malaking bilog ang panghabangbuhay na paglalakbay
Wala kang naaalalaa 'pagkat hindi mo ako makilalaa
Ngunit ang tibok ng puso mo'y pintig ng pulso ko.

Duct Taped

2005-04-28T11:40:00.000+08:00

I'm kissing my own lip:
Carbon Dioxide molecules are racing out of the narrow throat;
For every intake the diaphragm is pressured downward with injections of cavities.

I'm kissing my own lip:
Serving my wandering mind that longs for skeletal pillows;
Wishing that my lip would be your jaw.

The eye then dreams:
Forehead to forehead;
Nosebridge to nosebridge;
Words collide with every testament of earthly foolishness;
An exchange of souls;
Repeatition of step one;
I LOVE YOU.

Eye to Eye

2005-03-30T14:55:00.000+08:00

Mirrors reflect light but not the blood vessels flowing
The skeletal formation of a human body can never be more impenetrable
The skin, however, is an ectoplasm yet to be touched by carving hands
Chiseled- we are
Until we refrain from hammering rugged blows to our own body
Human eye meets light, never acting like a mirror

Now, LOOK AT ME.

Lullaby

2005-02-22T16:39:00.000+08:00

Ectoplasmic clay molds before your eyes
Masturbation as you dream
Golden halls mean wooden walls
But you're blind as you attend to your whim
As your thoughts wander around
You go deeper and deeper into the depths of your own foolishness
And you'll end up lost in the golden halls of your ectoplasmic dream
Soon you'll be nothing but wormfood
A rotting corpse waiting for the day of its death
How pitiful...
Not only have you sinned
But you also failed to realize that the world is no Eden
And now you bleed and you cry
Upon you they'll feed and you'll die
If only you have seen this coming,
You wouldn't be so hopeless, so lifeless, so godless...
Don't worry, there is a way out of your dream...
WAKE UP.

MGA SALITANG NAGMUMULA SA DILA: Ang Silbi Ng Funeraria

2005-01-31T22:11:00.000+08:00

Bakit tayo kelangang mamatay tanong niya...
...Dahil tayo ay gawa sa lamang nabubulok sa haplos ng hanging madumi dulot ng polusyon
...Dahil ang buhay ay pintura sa bubong na binubura ng ulan sa pagdaan ng panahon
...Dahil ang mundo'y matigas na bigas na magiging malambot na kanin kapag nainin na ang sinaing
...Dahil ang baga'y puno ng usok galing sa sigarilyong nagngangalang kasalanan
...Dahil ang dalawang utong ay sadyang malayo sa gitna ng dibdib
...Dahil ang mukha'y tinitigyawat
...Dahil ang utak ay sayang bobo para sa kaalaman ng kaluluwa
...Dahil wala naman talagang ulap na nagsisilbing panakip sa kawalan
...Dahil ang Lupa'y uhaw sa dugo
...Dahil ang balat ay hamog sa gabi na nawawala sa punas ng minamahal mong ina
...Dahil kailangang umurong ng ating talampakan
...Dahil tayo'y may patutunguhan
...Dahil may Diyos na naghihintay

At ang Kanyang mga kamay ay sabik sa yakap ng tagumpay.
Amen.

MACHINEGUN POETRY: Homeless

2005-01-28T17:17:00.000+08:00

Just when I thought I was free of obligation
I have found out that there is much dirt in the elephant's trunks
Left for me to lick clean

I have been so wrong
I AM SORRY
I am yet to crucify you for the world to see and miss your beauty
For your soul to wander is what you want
I thought you wanted comfort
But you were anticipating pain
again,
I AM SORRY.

I'll give you what you want
(To make up for mistakes)
And I'll give you death
(To praise you)

I never wanted to see you cry
But it is now your time to bleed
Feel the knife cutting through your skin
It'll son be over so you could shed a tear
Of happiness
Have you felt freedom yet?
Close your eyes now
I'll kiss you
And be the first one to say "goodbye, my love"
May you float with nothing on.

MACHINEGUN POETRY: The thing about 4-lettered words

2004-12-23T19:01:00.000+08:00

My mind fails to process that skin is already covering my beautiful skull
And I don't know this but they know I shouldn't be shy when I'm naked
Nails in my pulse
The scratches in my breasts
They can't see these that's why they don't understand
Even I don't know why
I'm complicated
And I know this
I've told everyone...
But I'm not someone who knows everything
(In contrary to what they see)
Tears...
Tears...
I'm crying
And then a whisper

"You're Beautiful"

Am I?

MACHINEGUN POETRY: The Tree Genoflects in Front of an Unidentified Flying Object

2004-12-06T18:49:00.000+08:00

Her heart throbs through a guillotine
And the gate through it is her small breasts
Be too careful and you’ll find out it’s not that fragile
Her moan breathes poison
And her cunt does get wet
Mix blood with alcohol
And she’s going to stand on her toes
Spread her arms
Look above the sky as if she was crucified
And she’s going to bring out a smile
Her smile is to die for
It is as dead as it could get

MACHINEGUN POETRY: CECILIA (1. Noun: Plural form of Cecilium)

2004-12-06T18:47:00.000+08:00

What the pupil sees is simple: Meat
An additive is to be an ingredient: Saliva
Fur and skin coincide
Blood rushes down low
Suck the blood from it
And the white of your teeth will get stained
By want and whim
The hand of Midas is for me to own
Every touch felt like gold
For a minute-long second
Liquid has never been this tangible
And you have tasted it
Now, the vulnerable cloth of pain and pleasure is about to feel
I could imagine eyelashes meeting
While the wind listens to names thrown into space
The muscle felt like a bone
And worst, it felt like a wall
But the drive of emotion and individuality kept pushing
So the heart moaned as the lung screamed
The spine kept twisting and turning and bending
For all what the nerves felt
Aesthetic pleasure is no more
For the eye is blind at the moment
And when all these are mixed altogether
Voices of want and pain and suffering and delight
They’re going to come all at once to your ears
Deafening the mind
So all you can hear is silence
The undoable has been done
The hands of time have ran
And in the end, CO2 fills the room in
That’s the moment amnesia strikes

MACHINEGUN POETRY: When You Don't Eat Veggies

2004-12-06T18:45:00.000+08:00

The knife isn’t sharp anymore—that’s nothing new…
When you use it on me, you’ll find out my blood is blue
The unwanted but anticipated death is just a few days away
And yes, I can feel it with my fur…

The veins running through my body are closing
And the lung is running out of air (specially the left one)

I remember when I first saw you through stained glasses
But you were fading in your own mirror
When I asked you if 25 months were worth of life
The answer was 25 seconds of yellow green beauty

Today audibles made the mind work
While figures attacked the eye that see
As the marrow in my bones grow

As the body decays, the soul is left dying
When the only solute for anger is blood
Therefore, the only thing left for me to do is take a look through binoculars
Even though I know it could only see the world rotate
(I would not like to see the world revolve anyway)

What is left to be further dissolved? It doesn’t matter
For when you turn the other cheek they will still slap the other
And even though the sea of love is ten fathoms deep
It isn’t enough to drown her pink-nippled breasts
But it’s more than enough to wash her feet

Coveted everything without saying anything
Karma strikes back, it buries everything in one month’s time
On a ground with no soil but brain

My hands are still holding yours (the fingers at least)
But you keep on pulling so I’m pushed
Don’t worry, my hands aren’t sweaty… YET

How about good news for a change?
Grasses ate me, dead head and allBut cows spitted me back out…

CHERRY BLOSSOMS ON CANVASS

2004-12-06T18:43:00.000+08:00

I’m tired. I’m lying on my bed faced down with nothing on. I feel so heavy yet so light. They emptied my bones of its marrow then made it steel. The bronchus has been stuffed with anvil and the lung is inflamed. It seems like oxygen has never been this polluted. Two sledgehammers, the jousting of knights and horses are pulling the hair out of the scalp. The right breast breathes better than the left one because it thinks that there should be a balance of weight. Blood is going to explode out of the nipples as the diaphragm presses upward. All these… all these are making the muscle stiff. As a matter of fact, the hand doesn’t even want to write.

Questions… they’re just too many. And I have an answer and it doesn’t even qualify as one. I don’t know. When did I start filling my back with clay? And when did I start biting lips? It seems like the aorta pumped more blood than what it was supposed to. Inhaled smog when I didn’t have to while I went making footsteps on quicksand made of concrete. Had reading glasses on but closed my eyes. Got a stake in my heart but I was no vampire. How stupid of me… no, how me.

Eyebrows are stapled on the fore head and it hurts. The chest is being too flexible that it‘s boxing me. My cheeks have died of waiting and anticipation, I feel sorry for them. I am walled by my own reflection and it’s driving more nails. The inflamed lung growls even more. Oh, have I become so prone and vulnerable that my knees are going to crumble…

And then my eyelids covered my vision. They went down to shut me up. There were lines of purple and pills of yellow-red and blue-orange combinations. There were shades of grey too! And then it was all black… just… black, pitch black. The eardrums slowly moved below while the mind has stopped from dreaming. Muscles have reached the optimum level of stiffness. That’s what I feel and don’t feel. The bed is slowly soaked with spilled passion, laughter, grief, delight, tears, suffering, excitement, dreams, voices, images, memories, everything! And all of them are in complete harmony with silence. And now I go to only-God-knows-where and I drift peacefully with the humming of birds and leaves in the sky as the chest finally clears the phlegm out of the esophagus. I’ve never been lighter before, never been so smooth, so swift, so… so… perfect. I’ve never been intangible, so out of shape yet so beautiful. The land gives me one final hug as I look towards the new plateau of only-God-knows-what. The sky gives me a kiss in the forehead then bids me “good-bye”.

Now, I am in rest…finally. The fatigue that every muscle felt has now subsided into a vast hole of nothingness. I am in complete unity with the rocks who did nothing but be hard and the seeds who did nothing but grow. And as I lay in purgatory’s embrace, I know I’ll learn when to wash my hands and when to soil them in dirt. I’ll know when to sink or when to swim, when to fly or when to fall, when to laugh and when to cry, when to run and when to walk, when to get up and when to give up, when to live and when to die… again.

Angels with scabbed wings… pull my feet. Gardeners of the clouds… lift my arms. Stretch me until I become a blanket that will warm the world. And when I moan, kiss me, and when I scream, hug me. But when I close my eyes and expose the spirit of my wings, let me go for that is the time I have decided to cross the fork on the road. That is the time when I’ll lose all my energy that I’ll kneel and give in to the load on the back of my head. It’s the time to feel the molecules around me with my fur and taste my tongue with my tongue.

I have always dried off raindrops that fall in the cheek and I have always stopped them from forming the gorgeous rainbow everybody wants to see. I have always done so many things which made mud hungry so it swallowed me. And all I had to say was her name. God, I wish I drew cherry blossoms on canvass.

I thank you womb.
I thank you flesh.
I thank you blood.
I thank you teeth and gum.
I thank you New York.
I thank you tongue.
I thank the goldfish caught on a frame.
I thank you katana and the tree that carried a bullet.
I thank you snowflake. I thank you very much.
I thank you vagina.
I thank the yellow green color for all the reason the world has to give.
I thank you God.

MACHINEGUN POETRY: I am both the sun and the son

2004-12-01T12:05:00.001+08:00

Here I am
Standing in the garden of Eden
Feeling the soothing breath of God
A finite entity that is
The very reason for existence, for life, for death, for eternal life
The start and end of everything beautiful and ugly in the face of the earth
The owner of the land and its soil
Of flowers and its nectar
Of time and its hours
Of the body and its rigor mortise
I own them and yet, there is no such thing as property (true)
For we are but paint on canvass that comes off with paint thinner
We are but dew that will dry in the afternoon

So look at my face
Picture me, kiss me
Hold me by my calves and try pulling me downward

Now hang me
Have me suspended in the air
You see... good things in life are at the very end of it

MACHINEGUN POETRY: Nameless

2004-11-30T13:52:00.000+08:00

The skin is soft and so is the breast
And they're burning brain cells
As the fingers run to and fro -- caressing your back
My orgasmic heart throbs as if you were mine