December 2008
26 posts
code.
be an oxymoron. gain by giving, win by yielding. act by forgiving, fight by shielding. through passive resistance, hold your ground. in this way, peace will come to the people around. by this code, walk in peace. in this way, trouble will cease.
origin.
i am a man of humble origin. inspired by external derision. i am a warrior of written words. where wonders walk in worlds of wit. while without, the real world continues its course. carrying corrosion in a crib of commerce. destroying the canopy with a collage of chemicals. so i withdraw and am withdrawn, of my own decision. i am a man of humble origin.
good thing.
i lost my purpose to live again. he quietly whispers. quick! do something before he does something rash! nobody yells. nobody rushes over, and breathless, nobody stops. hey, don’t scare me like that. nobody says. then nobody stands up, with an empathetic smile. nobody laughs. come on, you know i care. remember me? nobody? who knows you and what frightens you, who picks you up, who can see...
the next step.
ok, so maybe i did stumble, and so our relationship took a tumble. i would mumble excuses. but remember please, all the problems we faced. i need your kisses, i’m in love with your toothpaste. those memories can’t be erased. you are the one that made me believe that love is true. so i’m sorry for not saying this before, but when you leave i miss you more. so here i am to stay,...
amazement.
i’m complimented, so i take it to heart. i’m insulted, they’re just jealous of my art. i step on stage and i play my part, rhythmic linguistic rage bleeds on the auditory page. wage war, sage speaks, wisdom leaks. stupidity reeks. they critique my techniques while they sneak peeks at my mellifluous vernacular. be amazed by the audible color in my speech, when it reaches the eyes...
hate hate.
there is no malice in me that is not justified. that being said, there is no such thing as justifiable malice.
holiday chuckle. [for me, that is]
so i was sitting in the car, waiting for my sister to be done with her shopping. i decided to send out a holiday text. as i had a lot to say, i split the holiday text into three parts. i ended up sending aforementioned text to 60+ people. so this is how it went. part one to group one, then group two, yada yada. part two to group one, then group two, and so on and so forth. so while i was sending...
the decisive instant.
my heart, tell me what to do, i beg of you. pulsate and pound a tempo into my biological rhythm that will direct my limbs and digits in a manner that will not instigate withdrawal. do not allow dilettante to shake off its sleeves and present itself. my heart, where do i go from here? tap out a cadence to step my feet and vibrate my toes. disturb sluggish tendons and bade them motion. my heart,...
last of a dying breed.
i’m not a one night stand kind of guy, i’m a one life stand kind of man. i’m sorry that i only have one life to bequeath to you. i would gladly grow old with you, would gladly pay taxes with your name next to mine. can i please donate my arms to carry the hangers and shoeboxes? will you allow me to present my shoulder when you really feel the need to rest? we could be a...
cherish the moments.
though you might have good memory, doesn’t guarantee good memories.
falling short.
i recite what i write, but it doesn’t quite have the bite the way i envisioned it. to wit, am i illusioned to my own flow, and how would i ever know? maybe what sings through my mind finds itself as erratic static in other ears. i will never know what everyone else hears. this is an issue, one of my greatest fears; to be the iconic idiot among my peers.
painting clarity.
if god handed me a paintbrush, and gave me free rein, i would pick up the palette, and color everyone’s pain. it’s all the same color, no matter what color we are. we live on the same ground, die under the same star. maybe you don’t see it, and i’ll have to make it more clear. look at the color of your sadness, the hue of a tear. if god handed me a trowel, and gave me a...
eyekiss.
your smile says hello in a lovely way, and it’s unimaginably contagious. i can have your smile any day, but your heart is for the fortunate or courageous. and although my patience will be rewarded sooner or later, i’d rather it sooner than later. because your smile lies, your eyes have turned traitor. they tell me a story of a different sort. they ask, what do you do when you’re...
complexity.
and the curtains close on a world of a stage, as the universe applauds. the characters that lived and died, playing the whim of odds. no matter how they strained, they never understood why. every channel was used and abused, but they were never given a reply. even still, they struggled and toiled. they would flinch, but never recoiled. because in the first scene, they were given hope. and hope fed...
the perfect flaw.
here, look. so you only have one wing. but so do i! so what we do is, i tuck my arm under yours, nice and snug, and we support each other. got it? next, coordinate our flaps and we can achieve flight. here we go, flap, one, two, flap, one, two, flap, one, two, soar!
did i try?
i find myself straying from what i wanted to be, explaining to myself that i can always compensate. but slowly, in increments, what i love transforms into the what that i hate. you see, i conform and sacrifice more of me, and less of what i should. and the more i try to join the rest, the less i’m understood. maybe you can find solace in the confusion of phrases. some truly enjoy the...
see-saws.
he does what who does he think he is? he is a man of his word, his word was good for the world, but the world did not see the strength in his grasp. his grasp was intelligent, letting the ordinary sift away, and only holding on to the extra. so it made his specialty, his specialty was seeing the best but the best was only in his eyes, his eyes saw it, but others didn’t. so what was he to do,...
where do i turn.
it seems that i’ve spent my whole life waiting for happier days. will it be tomorrow, did i miss it in my sleep? is it hiding in some distant corner, that i have to extend my reach and grasp for myself? or will it skulk in when i’m not watching and waylay me like the good samaritan’s assailants? maybe it’s one of those, if i don’t think about it, it’ll come...
one night.
the winter wind blew on a windy winter night, it maneuvered through windows, which i thought were sealed tight. i had just relieved myself, and was on my way back, when too closely for comfort, i heard a wooden crack. i strained my ears, and was rewarded with a fizzling spark, and a moment later, i was standing in the dark. no worries, not a problem, as i reached for a handle. i opened the drawer...
destination.
i am encumbered by the knowledge of days numbered. what more can be done? it is said, there is nothing new under the sun. so i will spend my time under the moon, and dance myself to a lunar tune. under the illumination of a nightly source, i plan my journeys and chart my course. sails filled with an epileptic breeze, this is my story, ‘til the seas cease.
colors amaze me.
i saw today, the color red. and furious thoughts raced across my head. then i witnessed the color green. and my, it caused quite a scene. later, i contemplated color yellow, which was not as riveting as its colors fellow. lastly, i encountered a shirt of blue. suspiciously, it made me fall in love with you.
the little ones.
i am content, but is that enough? should i be happy that things aren’t so tough? they say you have to struggle all your life long, so be ready, be courageous, be steadfast, be strong. they say vanity is evil, ergo they’re saying evil is vanity. then they tighten their masks and walk away; i question their sanity. they say, “this is how it should be, this is how things are done....
enough.
everyday i wake up and i need to find a reason that is “enough”. sometimes a smile is enough. sometimes an overfull bladder is enough. sometimes revenge is enough. sometimes sunrise is enough. sometimes sunset is enough. sometimes an incessant alarm clock is enough. sometimes food is enough. sometimes the past is enough. sometimes a cigarette is enough. sometimes saturday morning...
self-pity.
disgusting, disgusting, i can feel my wits rusting. despicable, despicable, what have i become. so easily, easily, to this stress i succumb. distress, distress, i confess, i am. who am i to criticize, when i can’t pass my own self-exam? there are so many problems i see, but first i must deal with existing problems internally. i am stubborn, i am proud, i am greedy. i am selfish, i am shallow, i am...
something smells.
here i play. there i sleep. from point a to point b, i am the sheep. that follows blindly, the fodder of civilization. sometimes i stray from the herd. but only on occasion. but look, something curious there is. an idea? what is this? should i leave, should i stay, should i make my own way.. no. better to stick with the herd and be secure, than to be deterred and face the wolves of failure. back...
spread the butter of art.
what must be understood, is that art must be whored. no you misunderstand me. i did not say hoard, i said whored. because art ignored is like cutting cheese with a sword. like dicing fruit with an axe, get the facts straight. art is made for others to appreciate. it will simmer in the mind, and then it will procreate. but if you hoard it away, if art is scorned, you risk stagnation. you have been...
