Emaciation Proclamation

I
am
a red
balloon
and I
float
all
d
a
y.
w
a
i
t
i
n
g

for
my
prince
to
come.

i am tied by the base strings
&
i have seen bad weather
at its worst.
i have seen the
hails snows rains bolts cracks
whips and sneers.
&
;
its been mocking
and disappointing.


i
a
m
a
n
c
h
o
r
e
d

by the
%knots%
that whet
my stirs to revenge.

the cold raindrops,
they tickle me as i am tied to my
safe&&steady lifestyle,
rankling my disdain for the
emaciated and free
red
balloons.

and sometimes,
there will be:
purples greens oranges and blues
scattered around the lawn
in the sky,
in the cars,
in the lakes
and they hopelessly flounder
in sardonic jest,
on their wild escapades
with the wind
and the tiny frolicking cats and bees.

that is,
until they

l

o

s

e

i

t

,

madly, violently, outrageously, wantonly
parading on the grass,
impaled by the green, with envy,
plants that wish that they could fly,
too.

i
am
stuck.

i can be free,
but i have no choice
but to float in my pre-determined
Calvinistic
doom.

but when i see you have your fun,
and when i see you glide and stride
to your demise,
lonely and withering on the floor
that you used to taunt
so gaily,


i guess i'm not meant
to live that way.

Criminal

The more we separate,
the more I retaliate
from myself.

Weak feelings begin to manifest
like the sun's rays seeping
from the seed of the Earth.

Mortification transfigures into relief,
insecurities become auspicious possibilities,
first prejudices transcend into first prides.

Sinfully&slowly, my heart melts
at the thought of you.
But as I realize this, I scoop up the drippings
and place my heart promptly into a
refrigerator.

Where, do I think I'm going with this?

The sun sinks sullenly back into its grave,
the moon shines only half-wise, with its illusory half-radiance,
and the seasons whittle away knowingly,
UNDERSTANDING the secrets of
the Universe
which are disclosed to the guild of Believers,
in that weary sense.

Abashed and timidly,
I am left in vertigo,
spiraling onto the cold sand floor
to feel the weight of the world crunching beneath me.

Feigned emotions can trick the fool.
Oh, I've been the Artful Dodger,
and the butt of the joke.
I've done the trickery and caused the foolery.
Now here's my sorry punishment.

What Child Is This.

I meant for this to be done by a girl, but I left Irvine before I could find someone, and I'm really not interested in asking anyone here in Bakersfield (where I currently am). Other than that, enjoy.

What Child is This (Cover) - Mark Sescon

NaNoWriMo 2008.

I'm a wiener.

Want to read the PDF manuscript? Megaupload link.

Want to buy the book? Cafepress.
(Save your money and donate it to the poor)

[Note: I keep updating this thing I know, but just a couple final words I swear. First off, for clarification - if you manage to write 50K words you are automatically a winner of NaNoWriMo. Content is not judged; hence why I said this was no real "cause for celebration." Second, caution before reading! I won't lie: I set out to write the most violent piece of horror fiction I could possibly create. There are no funny parts; no sad parts; nothing to make you all soft and cuddly inside. Looking back on it now - and kind of 'after the fact' - I set out to write something that was ultraviolent and maniacal, something that those super conservative Christian groups in the South would throw a book burning for. I never had any intention of anyone reading it, so don't think that I'm "insane" after you read it. And oh yeah, Toni said it was a "Fight Club" rip off, although I disagree. Hahaha. The end.]

freedom.

talk about a free-for-all?
don't be surprised when you find out her eyes are gliding
over forbidden skins and bowling pins.
because you're claiming titles of the real fall out, boy, and wanting it.
i'm detecting a deficiency in commonality and unmatching pheromones
in the compartments of your very placid brain.
the quiet, the order,
the peace, disorder
that can drive her out of anything but feeling sane.
i'm unfortunately predicting a slip on acid, burning the soft skins
and musculature her eyes resound on and off of like tidal waves for lunar periods of time.
boy, i'm just doing my usual crime.
we're pretty sure it's not what it used to look like anymore.
i'm slipping into a new scene of earthen shades and in secret niches of a corner cafe,
riding on slides of slander and the curvatures of another baring back
over cups and cups of tea and pearls and the things you lack.
i was never able to carry on with you the same way
because you're the closed end, and i'm your polar opposite
recalling relative variables to formulate a better line of fit.
so i can't help but acknowledge a new trend at this rapid rate,
you gotta' make it,
extrapolate it.
this is how fate lets it.
correlate it. damn it, you just don't get it.
we're slipping out of laundered threads while we're still alive in our heads.
going once, going twice,
wanting more than what should suffice.
i feel no guilt nor shame for the sake of facing eye to eye, and i believe in the notion of karma and reality.
you dish out your daggers, i'll bleed out blatancy.
you unsheathe your fists, i'll unravel your every noted discrepancy.
i will reveal your weakness and every insecurity by reopening each wound with the scalpel of your misfortune.
i will scrape at your sensitive scars.
i will make sure you relive the pain that comes from the course of bleeding and increase it ten-fold.
it will hurt so,
so much, you will regret the idea of you and me and fucking it.

Wells

I fell into her eyes
that spilled with crystal blue water--
like a well.

But her eyes were as bright
as icebergs that stand tall
and majestic
JUST to be noticed.

Those eyes they
grabbed me silently,
and discretely,
hoping to keep me kidnapped in those
lonely deep pupils.

NaNoWriMo!

Support Charmaine and myself (as well as anyone else!) who are taking part of NaNoWriMo!

Gypsy

You've heralded me
"The Sojourner,"
doomed to transient fame.
Every situation calls for
miniscule feats--
tiny success stories that
I hold so dear
with such fleeting promise.

Call me
Wilted Tulip
or Decomposing Flesh;
something that was once
lavishly assumed and consumed;
decadently spoiled and cooed.

Prologue:

I wrote this a few hours ago. I also posted it on my regular blog. It came out of me really fast (HA! That's what he said...) but I spent a good amount of time editing. I've always wanted to write a novel or something and I actually have a few subplots to go along with this prologue, but THAT's going to take a lot of time (which I currently don't have). Maybe I'll write a chapter or something every now and then and post it up... We'll see. If the creative juices flow.
------------------------------

The clock read 10:53 PM and with the sunroof open, they sat speechlessly in his car. He glanced at the dangling rosary under the rear-view mirror, looked in her eyes, and then, offered his hand. Instinctively, she stared at his hand, smiled, and filled the spaces in between his fingers.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you.
You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time.

And boy, did he want to melt.

She reached through the void of the rooftop with an open palm and whispered, “It’s so close but so far away…”

“Yeah… just like you.”

He did not dare look into the windows of her soul and instead kept his gaze at the stars, praying that his wish would come true. For a split second, he waited for her response, for her to at least turn in his direction and reciprocate the same longing that he had for her. He pondered on what other possible curses she would bless upon him under their clear view of heaven.

The cell phone on her lap buzzed with vibration. Somehow, he knew it was time to let go.

With her newly-liberated hand, she looked at the caller ID, silenced her phone and refocused her attention on the stars. At least she looked like she did.

He already knew, but he decided to ask anyway: “Who was it?”

“Huh? Oh… It was just Markus.”

The future’s open wide.

“How come you didn’t pick up? You should call him back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to him later.”

And at that moment, he realized that even if he saw a thousand more shooting stars after the one he already wished on, his wish had already, haphazardly, come true: she was happy.

DNA strings weigh me down

DNA strings weigh me down:
An Anchor in the blue
abyss of nothingness,
except conniving grudges
that stack up (like sand sediments
crinkled over the ages).
Never again can I
wobble to the consent
of my indecisive curiosity.
There is no such thing as
a liberty to concede to;
only stillness (as instilled by Nature
and sojourn faith), that
dictates everything.
Oh Tyranny; I balk at the thought.
Yet my heart is charcoaled, and crispy.

Sailors / Talking Through Objects.

Double whammy: two songs.

Sailors

[Note: I wrote "Sailors" a while back. As of right now the song is pretty incomplete in terms of the bridge - 2:54 'till about 3:54. I know I want lyrics there and maybe a little acoustic guitar solo; so far I have a few lines of the lyrics. I recorded the piano in my living room in Bakersfield, CA. I was going to use the same sequencer-keyboard I use in most of my songs, but I wanted it to sound organic - hence recording an actual live piano. To be honest, the way this whole song is played is completely stolen from Nez's guitar playing. I like to break down people's techniques and such, and I've always noticed Nez has this kind of picking style that sonically separates the high strings from the bass strings. I could go in to all the details, but just know that I majorly jacked her playing style for this song. Actually in my mind, I pictured Erwin playing the drums, Nez on the guitar, and Mel on the piano.]

I've heard of an evil that brings men to their knees.
Runs through their veins like a blood borne disease.
Makes sailors long for the ocean no more.
Makes them want to stay on the shore.

I once gave myself to a beautiful girl.
She filled the spaces inbetween my fingers.
The right words didn't come out when she went away.
And I have never been the same.

Why do we run when we claim it's love?
Why are we so scared we run?
And if love's but a moment I'd want to spend it with you.
Every minute. Every second.
With you.

Secrets that we kept. Lies that we told.
Bending at the break. Give up and fold.
You were selfish to think I would change.
Naive to stay the same.

I kept the best kisses in the corner of my mouth.
Never - not ever - to reach your lips.

Talking Through Objects

[Note: "Talking Through Objects" is a story about a hopeless romantic girl. She went to all-girls Catholic schools her whole life and the only thing she knows about "love" is what she's learned from watching television and movies. So essentially she's lived a pretty sheltered life, and she's not necessarily a tool, but her life is "run" by her friends. She's good at heart no doubt - but just a little misguided. One day she meets a skeptic romantic - a guy from the other side of the tracks. They have a moment together - but hey, when you have perfection, all you really need is a moment. The girl goes on to meet another guy - the kind of guy who her friends and family would approve of. Yet despite her seemingly normal life, she knows this new guy isn't right, and she yearns for the "guy from the other side of the tracks."]

You wake up to find the sun shining through the blinds.
And you move the hair away from your eyes.
You brush your teeth. You check your smile.
You walk alone and stop a while to notice that the day has gone by.

They all say we're hopeless lovers.
Brought to this world - made for each other.
If I am "love," then why are we so alone?

You surround yourself with good people.
Yet in a crowded room you feel alone.
So you meet a man approved by all your friends.
And you think he might be Mr. Right,
But still you feel so alone.

I wanted to believe in something more than angels and demons.
Something that for once felt real.
In a world where dying is romantic, love is selfish and demanding.
Something that for once is real.

2nd to the back

1... 3... 5... 7...
B-b-b-beep-beep.
Late. As always.
Late? More like early.
I'm in.
Second to the back,
With plugged-in earphones,
Nostalgia takes its toll.
I lean back and let my eyes close.

1... 3... 5... 7...
B-b-b-beep-beep.
Late. As always.
Late? More like early.
She's in.
Damn. I thought it was you.
Second to the back,
In the midst of silent prayers,
Nostalgia takes its toll.
I lean back and the tears roll.

1... 3... 5... 7...
B-b-b-beep-beep.
Late. As always.
Late? More like early.
We're out.
And I finish the lost routine.
Second to the back,
Respectfully on bended knees,
Nostalgia takes its toll.
I stand up and let it end.
More like begin... all over again.

the missing piece

you can find it if you look in the mirror. we're all one in Him. =)

Beauty

i met Beauty today.
before i could meet her gaze,
she sprinted toward the light
hoping that the uv rays would
wipe off her scars and youthenize
her figure.

she would not speak to me;
her lips were taped with
ancient cassette film and dollar bills.

she could not hear me, either;
her ears were warped in awkward contortions
to forever never let her headphones
fall off her head.

Two Years Too Short

(currently listening to Save Him by Justin Nozuka. Sorry if this song sounds sad)

What happens now
Now that you're gone.
Am I just a dog
That's sitting alone?

I'm sad, you're mad
But don't you forget
The feeling of happiness
You seemed to forfeit.


What happened to
The time that we shared?
What happens now,
Now that we're scared?

This suffering, fainting, loving
All this and more.
Holding back tears
Of what's still in store.

The pain in my eyes
Reflects that of your soul.
The hope my heart
Is replaced with a hole.

So bow your head down
Sleep your eyes shut
Know in your mind
That we've had enough.
But don't forget one thing,
You need to keep it close:
There's people still here
That love you the most.

Why did it stop
The long nights of fun?
We stayed up to sunrise
To get some things done.

This is for Arnold
The "Turbal" is Time.
The songs from past
Do not have to rhyme.

Because you're there
And meee too.
We stuck it together
A feeling like glue,
But I was glad
That I was stuck to you.

So bow your head down
Sleep your eyes shut
Know in your mind
That we've had enough.
But don't forget one thing,
You need to keep it close:
There's people still here
That love you the most.

What made it part?
What made it end?
The happiest place on earth
Stole my friend.

The rides, the talks,
The driving around.
The things that we did,
You brought me to sound.

My life is influenced
By you forevermore.
Even the clothes that I wear
I buy from your store.

Please realize,
This is not the finish.
Only if we all GIVE UP,
Our lives will diminish.

So bow your head down
Sleep your eyes shut
Know in your mind
That we've had enough.
But don't forget one thing,
You need to keep it close:
There's people still here
That love you the most.

WTF

WTF do you want me to do?!
Better yet: WTF do you want?!
You're telling me one thing but doing another!
You tell me I'm worthless,
So I tell you I'm leaving.
Then you hold my hand without asking,
And you ask, "Wait, you're really going...?"
With the loneliest tone I've ever heard.
You scan me up and down and look at my "curves"
Then you tell me I'm beautiful--
Inside and out--
So we go out and I try on a dress
And with the most insensitive laughter
You chuckle out, "Dude, you're kinda fat!"
Hmm... am I the only one who sees a problem in that?!
I can obviously fight my own battles;
I'm fighting you right now, aren't I?
So stop acting like I'm a child.
Stop trying to "protect me" like I'm yours to keep forever.
You and I weren't born together
And you know we're not meant for each other
So quit acting like we're attached at the hip
And realize that you're only killing me,
That you're killing us,
By holding on but pushing me away.
If I could have it my way,
I might as well be dead today.
Maybe then you'll see and value me
For who I really am as a woman and as a friend
Someone who'll willingly serve you until the end
Instead of a prisoner of your incessant
Inconsistent signs of "tough love"
(But no offense to The Man above)...
I just wish you knew what you were doing to me.

Virtuality.

You're the Devil
And I can't escape
from the glare of your eye
or the light that you bewitch me with,
in your unusual atmosphere.
You glow,
and convince me that you're
not just a dream-
That you're the reality
I've always craved
but truthfully
never indulged in.
You danced for me,
and I took you by the hand;
we danced for years,
and it felt promising:
Your touch was so warm,
so comforting that-
it felt harmless,
and I was enraptured.
But you grabbed that hand
and pulled me
In-
you pulled me close-
So close, that I choked-
inferior to your invisible strength.
I saw you, but I could not see
that you were the falsification
of my dreams/
the introduction of my nightmares.
You sang for me,
and I listened
Your tune was upbeat and I
danced,
for you,
danced once more,
Until I could no longer.
Until your music
became sour, and I saw that
you continued to play
but I heard differently.
You yelled as I
stepped
off-beat,
off-rhythm,
the pace
was too
quick
And I ached
for rest.
You, continued.
You, beckoned.
You, led.
I, could not follow.
I, did not follow.
I, slipped.
You sighed.

I, tore from you.

You're the devil
and I can escape
from the glare that was your eye
and that light that you bewitched me with.
I'm in my usual atmosphere; your reversed reality.
You still glow,
and you draw others near,
to your fantasy-land
and darkness world
Your ballroom floor
and masquerade trap.
You offered me your hand,
and you danced,
and danced.
But,
I can no longer feel
that warmth you once had.
You burn,
bitter;
I watched you from afar.
Distance is better
in our dance.
I'll always see you,
but I won't come close
to, that
ugliness,
that is you-
and that world,
you never saw.
I,
Away from the night
of one temptation
of a solemn song
and a hand
that offers
a dance.

What Matters

What happens to the ones
You can't keep close by?
Do they fall, do they leave,
Do they drift to the sky?

What about the people,
The ones closest to you?
Are you going to lift them up,
Or are they going to fade too?

I think it all comes down
To what's important in your life.
What is it that you want,
A friend or a wife?

These are lots of questions
That will leave you thinking.
Is it too late to come back?
WTF was I drinking?

Life is full of changes
Relationships are not exempt.
Maintain them or they disappear.
Loneliness leads to contempt.

Remember the Kool-Aid Man?
He busted through the wall.
No one thought any less of him,
But he busted through a f*ckin' wall.

What about the Pilsbury Doughboy,
what happened to him?
Last time he was seen
He was drinking a bottle of gin.

It's tough being beautiful.
It gets thankless after awhile.
I mean, you're making the world look like a better place
Who cares if you can't run a mile.

When the good things in life
Hit you like a wave.
Soak it all in,
Take it with you to the grave.

Things look pretty good
When you see the bright.
Let the bad roll off,
Don't take it to your night.

Jesus says,
I am with those of 2 or 3 that gather here.
Are you gathering in His name,
Or sitting back drinking beer?

Some people find fun
Through things that are destructive,
But what if your life is so bad,
The negative becomes productive?

I'm going to tell you a story,
It involves a pirate Jim,
And he had a parrot,
Who's name was Tiny Tim.

Now Jim was a swashbuckler
A life lead very strong.
Tim was a parrot,
Who's beak was pretty...long.

They were as different as can be,
But they belonged together.
Jim taught him to fish,
Tim sang "Hiding Inside the Horrible Weather."

They became best friends when they met.
They weathered all the storms.
They would come out better than ever,
They would beat the pirate norms.

But then one day
Tiny Tim flew to an island
Jim was stuck on the boat
With no way to reach the highland.

The moral of the story is:
Not every where you go, can you be followed,
And not everything you drink
Should be swallowed.

I hope I don't see that
Happen to you.
I'm gonna miss our times
But you do what ya' gotta do.

Fruitless Risks

I started writing this song around 2:30 AM and finished at 7:30 AM this morning. It's actually a "two-parter." The second part has vocals; and I can't really record vocals right now because of my roommates and such. Actually I shouldn't be recording in general, haha. I have 200 pages of biology left to read and finals is in less than three days...But anyways, this song is an instrumental. I'm contemplating placing a choir at the end of the song; maybe they'll do "ooo's" and "ahh's" - perhaps even sing one line or something. We'll see. Majorly inspired by a conversation with a friend, a YouTube video posted on a friend's Xanga, and my fanscination with the concept of "last nights" (think Can't Hardly Wait). In my head, I pictured two people spending one more night together at a party or something. There's mad tension because one of them wants to say something, but they're both scared. So it's like - are they or aren't they? Musically, it is a different "direction," but I hope you enjoy it. I was thinking Jimmy Eat World's Clarity meets Explosions in the Sky. Oh yeah, I'm well aware of the "scratch/hiss" at around 1:20. It was caused by converting the YouTube video in to MP3 format. It'll be fixed in the "final" version (granted there is one). Hrm. Part two coming soon...

Dedicated to every guy who wishes she got off the plane; she turned the car around after she drove off your driveway; or any guy who waited for her to turn around when she walked away.

Blessing in Disguise?

I don't know if I ever posted this here (probably did) but here's a repost. After such a great summer, with my life being so positive, I can remember the time when I first started noticing this "positive streak." It started just before summer, that's not to say bad things haven't happened since, but I think it's important to note that they roll off of me and I face adversity with a positive outlook now.

These thoughts in my mind

That scramble up my brain

Keep flowing through my cranium

But I dare not go insane.



The root of all evil

Comes from your decisions.

The choices you make

Result from your precisions.



Carefully measure,

Carefully decide.

These careful calculations

Make me just want to hide.



I find I'm torn

Between the present and the past.

My thought process expands,

But my heart comes in last.



This is a weird feeling,

Never experienced before.

When was the last time Attraction

Didn't end up with a whore?



What stimulates the mind

Is something that can't be touched.

It's something more real

And lets you walk without a crutch.



Hello regret,

You hit me to the core.

What other surprises are waiting

Like a trap in the floor?



The people I love

Don't know the half of it.

They're too busy stressing,

Falling into a mass dark pit.



Maybe I am too.

Maybe I stress more.

Maybe school, work, Liwanag, GL, writing, baseball, coaching, dancing singing, acting is too much.

Maybe I don't feel content, maybe I feel poor.



I like to be reminded

Of the things I've always had.

Gonna shout a throwback,
And "separate the good from the bad."



Gratification, humiliation

And even masturbation.

Are becoming even more of an indignation

Always leading me to temptation.



Community. Socializing.

YOU are my anti-drug.

It's funny how you can brighten my day

With something as simple as a hug.



You might think this is about you,

But really it's not.

It's getting closer to summer

And damn it's getting hot.



Follow your heart

And you'll never go wrong.

Sometimes I disagree

And break out into song.



La la la la laaaa,

Listen to me:

There's more than infatuation,

There's lovE with a capital "E."



It's more than what it starts out with,

The ending is what it will be.

lovE starts out slow,

But builds up to a capital "E."



Your love for God,

Is your best relationship.

There is nothing that can match that,

Because there is nothing that rhymes with relationship.



You are sacred.

Don't ever forget that.

Don't look in the mirror and think to yourself:

"Am I too fat?"



No one hates who you are,

Disappointment comes from within.

I never want to see you

In the bathroom ready to binge.



Struggles are so hard,

Flowing from my heart.

The mind and organ beat together.

Life would suck if they were apart.



I'm finding what I prioritize.

I'm finding what I like.

I feel like I'm maturing.

Traitorship would be a strike.



I know what makes me happy

But I don't know what to do.

Old habits die hard,

Accessing them would be strike two.



I'm a very clumsy person,

I've ran into a tree.

If I dropped people in my life,

That would be strike three.



This "poem" is already long

Let's try to add some jokes.

Be careful what you wish for,

You don't know how much this straightedge smokes.



Roses are red, violets are blue

Did you hear the one about Tennessee?

Because the only ten-i-see

Is YOU.



"Do you have a band-aid?

Because I'm cut!"

I said that in a club one night,

And got told to shut up.



My jokes may be corny.

My jokes may be whack,

But at least I'm not like Zack Efron,

The actor that does crack.



I love the movie Iron Man,

But does anyone know the song.

I've been stuck singing "IRON, IRON MAN, IRON IRON IRON MAN"

All day long.



Laughter is fun.

It's not something to defray.

If you're not laughing, is something wrong?

Let me be the one to brighten your day.



One more joke,

I swear that's it.

If I tell anything after that,

I won't mind getting hit.



A blonde walked into a bar.

She said "Ouch."



I'm sorry, that was lame,

But it was all I got.

Just smile for me baby,

Damn it's getting hot.

my stariway to heaven

music min as definitely helped me realize that this is one of my was to be closer to Him.

Cravings

To all my "ladies" out there.
(Yeah, that's right! LADIES!)

Taken aback by your eminent beauty,
Your obvious curves and your luscious scent,
I linger at the foot of the door,
Waiting for you to walk out with someone else
Just to get a whiff of that fruity breeze
That you wear oh-so carelessly
(And practically naturally).

Stalker status much?
I don't care... Here's why:
"Damn, I think I love you,"
I whispered under my breath.

Inside, my heart melts,
My brain crumbles,
And my stomach churns.
Inside...
I wish that you were inside me...
Right here and now...
Lord, please hear my prayer...

The Almighty knows how broke I am
And I debate whether if I should make
My fantasy into reality.
I constantly fantasize about taking you out:
(Actually, more like taking you in)
How I would carefully try not to break you or your exterior,
As I peal the covers that protect you,
How I would gently move my trembling,
Overly-excited fingertips across your body to
Unwrap the masterpiece that I already see you as.
I drool over the thought of you
In your almost-rawest form,
Becoming mesmerized by the image
Of your imperfect (which makes you perfect) layers
And all your bare essentials which makes me crave
YOU all the more.

"Damn, I think I love you."
Again, I whisper under my breath.

To think of all the goodness and happiness
You would bring to me if you
Just let me hold you...
If you just let me have you
Completely
All to myself.

And then I get that one moment,
That opportunity that I've prayed for
Over and over again.
I get the chance to have you.
Hallelujah!
Salamat na man! (Oh, thank goodness!)

Now...
We can take it slow and savor the moments
And the flavor of the oozing juices that overflow
From your succulent exoticism,
Or we can do this fast, quick and simple.
I can start from the top and nibble my way to your bottom.
I know that you'll leave it up to me to decide.
But if I were to choose right now, I don't care.
All I'd like is to have the best of you
Before you melt under the heat of my touch.
Mmmm... I can't wait to taste you on my lips.

"Damn, I love you. I love you so much."
I finally say it out loud.
And suddenly all eyes were on me,
But I didn't care
Because I finally had you with me.
And as I looked at your bright complexion,
I realized I made the right choice
To stick with my decision to invest in you:
A strawberry-banana with vanilla ice cream
And Nutella chocolate spread,
Japanese crepe from Genki Living.

Shall we go out?? =)

New Song (in progress)

I just made up this song as I was walking up to my front door. I make up songs all the time while I'm walking by myself (kinda like freestyle rapping, but singing...alone so no one can hear how much sense I don't make), but these lyrics that just came to me caught my attention because there's no songs that I've listened to before that have the same meaning (but I'm sure there's some out there). Imagine a catchy pop-rock tune.

I'm out of my element.
But what did it bring?
'Twas pain and suffering.
Lost and alone.
But I'm better fooooor it.
I'm out of my element.

I guess it's just a song about adversity, and being though it sucks and it's hard, you're stronger afterward. Don't be afraid to leave your most comfortable element.

Hmmm, I wonder if someday I'll finish this song.

Lovely Weather.

[Note: Obviously it's not Christmas time, but I haven't posted anything in a while and I found this song that I did back during Christmas 2007. This song was attended to be a duet between a guy and a girl; therefore this version is about 80% complete. The song is about a girl I knew that use to reminisce about living in Ohio, Christmas time, and the snow fall.]

"Lovely Weather"

Kids are outside, enjoying the cold.
It's bitter from us, from long ago.
We stay inside 'cause of our prides.
Prevents us from warmth.
She wraps presents, forgets the past.
Especially the one that left her scarred.
Maybe I was just nothing more than a moment in her heart.

Let it snow.
Like it did when you lived in Ohio.
Is there hope?
That you didn't let me go.
Let me know.

They say that it is thought that counts.
When love is lost can it ever be found?
Can you meet me underneath the sky?
The night looks like a million Christmas lights.
Or can you just grant me this one wish?
Fall asleep and dream that we kiss.
In the morning, you'll know we dreamt the same thing.

When I said that I was happy without you,
I was lying - I thought you could tell.

Say it!

Youve cut my string
and lanyard
and now things are set
to roam about and freely
and free from your intricacies
and my delicacies
and free from your bemusement
my bad influence
tie me now
I guess somebody
so flying won't seem too fake
for new heights and zeniths
such that walls and gaps will be
sealed forever

& Ill tie the string &

Damn.

Open your eyes!
Can't you see me?
I thought you already could.
But you don't.
Not the way I want you to, anyway...
I'm just an object:
Something you can hug when you're lonely,
Something you can wipe your tears with,
Something you think you can pick up
No matter where you left it last.

Listen to me!
Can't you hear me?
I thought you already could.
But you don't.
Not the way I want you to, anyway...
I'm just an object:
A clashing gong among your harmonic lifestyle,
A soft whiz blowing past your ears and through your hair,
A falling tree in the middle of the forest:
Nearly dead and unnoticed.

My list of "You Are":

MY Prince-of-Peace, My Idealized Soldier clad in snowy-white brilliance:

You Are:

Dashing,
Smashing,
Exuberant.

You Are:

Ticklish,
Diabolical,
Phenomenally (cool).

You Are:

Enigmatic,
Bemusing,
Peculiarly eye-catching.

- - -

The narrator is a woman listing down all the expectations she has of her lover: she expects him to be a perfect "prince", denying any flaws he might have. She overlooks his faults by not including these imperfections on her "list of YOU ARE" and chooses to continue her relationship in ignorant bliss.

Your puppet.

"Puppet,
Sing for me;
You've been quite a while
And I can't see anything
clean.
Get what I mean?
The tables and stairs
are all over the air
basked in dirt;
Forget if you're hurt--
Puppet,
another request:
The tv is on,
The computer is gone;
I need change.
Gettin' this game?
Your turn to provide
all the things I do hide
from your face,
in this messy place--
Puppet,
what's the time?
There's cooking to do,
the bird's gone cuckoo
in its cage.
(You're far from beige).
Why haven't you started
when everything's parted;
insane!
What's your name?--
Oh, Puppet!
Answer now,
Why are you so angry
when all I am saying
is this:
Can you give me a kiss?"

...

"Where are you going,
the wit isn't showing,
you know!
...Come back home!
You'll be happy later,
and sober, and stable
with greens.
Don't run from me!
I've made your decision
with clear-cut precision,
Now wait.

You'll have to sit still,
and wait."

----

I know
From your past,
You are right.
But a new race
is here

and I'm running.

I can't take it slow

You,
of whom I felt loved to death.
Upon our first meeting,
You
embraced Me like a close friend,
when I was still unfamiliar to touch
and grossly deathly afraid of the
skintoskin.

Oh
You.
I loved that,
and I loved how I met
You
under no special circumstances.
When
I was I,
and Me was Me.

You,
of whom I was drawn.
But you discovered the secret of Me.
(MeplusMe)
It was no lie; I couldn't hide it.
My contents spilled and leaked,
and I was there limping
on the floor of the counselor's office,
drenched in foreboding lingering regret
etched onto a memo pad:

Your Sophomore Schedule,

and it was done.

You
and Me split.
(we split kindly; the way that lovers do NOT do.)

You
discovered my secret--
my name is anonymous;
unknown and devoured by Your sumptuous lips.
my heart spilled that day,
and it rained of purples, greens, and reds.
and personalities, and characteristics, and apparently
our forgotten memories.

Your
mind had been reset;
and
You
asked me years later,
about how we had met.

I am sorry that I told You.
And I am sorry that I really know now,
that all that we had in the past is perfectly null.
Because...
You
can't notice me.

- - - - -

This is not a love poem. (Hm, I hardly ever write love poems...) This is a friendship poem about someone I've known for a few years. This is also about the difficulty of finding my identity (in the most obvious of ways). And the capitalized "you" is NOT making a religious reference. I make a play on capitalization in this piece. Everything (grammar, spacing, punction) is important. At all times.

It's always about you, isn't it. You can't even remember...

Your Window

You walk around with your head held high,
Expecting to be adored, patronized, loved.
You walk into the room knowing that I'll look at you,
Because I've haphazardly fallen for you and your
Incessant, annoying and persistent late night phone calls,
Your jerk-ish attitude but calming laughter,
Your brutal honesty and your
Fresh-from-the-laundry scent.
Gosh--I hate you...
I hate the way the corners of your eyes form wrinkles,
And the way tears drop when you're breathlessly
Bursting in a booming laugh.
I hate the fact that I know how you think
But I don't know your thoughts;
I can predict your every move and
Logically explain your every excuse
For doing (or not doing) what you're supposed to do.
I hate the way I look at you from across the room,
To assure that you can still drive home,
And you catch me.
Then, with a bottle in one hand,
Leaning up against the wall,
You wink and smile and act like all is fine and well.
What I hate most is that I expect that from you,
That I can't pull away from your stares,
That I actually want you to see me--
Even if it's only as a friend.
Because those winks,
Those tears, and
Those wrinkles,
Are what opened me up to see and love
Your innocent, oblivious and vulnerable soul.

Together

What if we
danced forever?
I'll lead,
you follow.

What if we stayed up
all night?
Taking about movies
and jello.

Would you be
happy?
The tears on your face
say "no."

Have you laughed
this week?
Looks like it hurts
to swallow.

Is this a week
to remember?
Goes by fast
yet so slow.

But what if we
kissed?
Would that break your rule?
I want us to grow.

When will things get
rocky?
Our love is something
I want to flow.

What if you
were scared?
I would hold you
and never let go.

Congratulations You're Alive.

You know when you sleep all day,
And you're like, "Damn, I wasted a day sleeping."
Sometimes I feel like that except -
I didn't waste the day sleeping.

MY ATTEMPT AT REDEMPTION.

i am what isn't most.

i am physically stronger than most (even though i'm not strong enough to turn a stubborn pipe valve with my fingers).

i am more honest than most (even though i can't follow through with my own occasionally found philosophy).

i am more realistic than most (even though it often costs me a sound and temperate reputation).

i am more aware of my dignity than most (even though i struggle to resist and i make those intentional slips).


even though they are unable to slip through a pair of jeans,
and look satisfyingly slim and decently fit,
my thighs are stronger and more shapely than most (even though i'll never come to terms with mod-coined cigarette pants).


although i am shorter than most,
i am more curvy and physically healthy than most (despite my naive disorderedly eating habits).

i am a flawed, finite being.
but a flawed, finite being who looks into the mirror day after day to assess who she sees, who knows what undying guilt feels like, who contemplates over every helping hand she's offered and every bloody nail she's hammered.

i am a flawed, finite being who remembers everyone she's hurt and struck with a fiery blaze and left behind with a blinded gaze.

before i can embrace another, i must embrace myself (including my thighs and derriere).


i may have a black heart now, but it wasn't charred to begin with.

Irvine Essence

Rich.
Girl.
Stomp ing shoes.
Wind between her hair
(always blowing in her hair).
Sun in her shades
(never sparkle with a care).

Thin.
legs.
Glowing in the night
(even though there is no light
where she's from).
They say that she's a feisty one.

Nice.
Clothes.
They always tend to see
(prices far beyond the fee
that they can pay).

Cold.
Stares.
Coming from the one
Who has opted out the fun
that is here.
She brought out everything she had in fear.


And still,
She is
un.
hap.
py.

She wears the perfume

I labeled this poem to categorize the different works submitted in Scribbles. You're more than welcome to label your submission to help readers identify the type of work you've entered. Labels can also help clear any confusion, content-wise.


- - - - -



She wears the perfume,
and she wears it nicely.

It's hard to tell at first,
but there's definitely something

beneath initial wafts
and first impressions

of her.

I don't know how to describe it--
(let me gather myself, let me gather my thoughts).

She's an interesting person...
someone beyond her years.
I really see her differently,
and it's not just the scent that defines her.

Her courage to question a system
that she thought could be so flawless, and so
unshakably, unmistakably

Perfect.

She wears the perfume,
and she wears it well.


So well, in fact, that she's choking
on the illusions that the witches have brewed,

contained in a ... glass
ever so lucidly.

the drugs have synthesized with oxygen--
circulation running amuck in her cherry "snow white" heart.

And it pumps--beats--pumps--beats--,
all the way to her feet,
and her arms and her legs and her stomach.

Slowly, she's ingesting the surreal,
digesting the unreal,
and protesting the real
and learned.

She wears the perfume to cover all this. lost in
figures and places that used to be familiar, but
are really just trapped in foreign vortexes of her once
familiar mind.

And this is how she copes with it,
on the real,
dressing herself for false attention and
setting herself up for a dinner date with
disappointment and heartbreak and stomachaches.

And this is just her countenance,
her cathedral facade--perceived as high and mighty
and royal and INVOLVED.

The truth could not be so distant.

And she's crying, begging to me,
to ME,
to help her through this and to mend her
sprained ankles over missing these
FOUR IMPORTANT STAIR STEPS
to identify, and
to reach that achieved state of mind.

Minus the truth.

Yesterday: Ages Ago

When we sat on a bench
Small talking, taking pictures
Feeling unnoticeably awkward
And getting to know each other.

When we drove around
To what seemed like Neverland
(because we got lost
and decided to just go on
OUR very own adventure)
In the middle of the night while
KOST-ing it.

When I slept on the couch
And YOU were my blanket
(not because you didn't
or couldn't make your way home.
Oh, the dumb excuses you made...
But because I didn't,
actually, couldn't make my way home
and you wanted to stay).

When you came from across the room,
Held out your hand,
And we rolled, we glided, we sweated...
WE danced.
(Points of contact: body to body;
And you held my hand
With only a few fingers interlaced
Because you knew I liked it that way).

When I thought you were mine.
And you figured out that I'm yours to keep.
And now I'm in too deep to jump out.
In to you, in to this triangle of
Unrequited, unconditional love for you,
the way you say you love her
(And yes, she may see the best & worst with you,
But she doesn't accept it the way I do;
Cliche but true:
She doesn't see how your imperfections
Really do make you perfect...)

When you called me your sister,
And I smiled in returned
And yelled out, "Whattup, bro!"
And you frowned because you realized
That's how she sees you.

When you leaned on my shoulder,
And laughingly whispered, "I love you, man."
And I respond, "I love you."
Oh wait--that was today.
Actually... that's every day.

Empires.

When fools can be leaders,
And leaders can be fools,
We'll have ourselves a revolution.

Plans.

We live our lives to expect the worst.
Yet we plan for the best.

Nice People

We are people pleasers who subconsciously live for the smiles and gratuitous compliments we receive from each small and random act of kindness we commit. We alter our behaviors with the hope of impressing those who watch us closely (or those whom we want to watch us closely). We are wanderers and sometimes even floaters, lusting (and probably needing) for an exclusive, secluded place to claim as our very own. Simultaneously, we long for that one person--a being we'd like to label as our soulmate--to be able to share that place (at least for one moment in our lifetime) with us.

Prideful? Conceited? Whatever.
Here's the deal: I'm the NICEST person you'll ever meet.

Outiside: smiles and holds up a peace sign
Inside: yells out the eff word and holds up a peace sign without the index finger

Passing thought.

Waking

up?

Beep Beep Beep

Isittimetowakeup?
WasIDreaming?IsItFriday?

Oh, no.

It's just, another day.
Out of the room
brushing my teeth
dressing up
getting ready.
No more time for breakfast, whatever's in the room.

Running running running

Session 1:
Let the clock strike 10.
Sleeping or dreaming of sleeping.
Can you repeat that?
I couldn't hear.

Walk, Walk, Walk.

Lunch:
Who's around?
Schedules clash, don't they?
Planning ahead:
I remember now.
It's you and you, then you.
Now it's time-
Avoid main entrees,
getting settled.
Abundance in little.

Walk.
Oh, that person from that time
Walk.
Oh, another squirrel
Walk.
Oh, a flyer
Walk.
Oh, life


Hour Gap:
Free time, my time,
or lost time?
Finding friends
interacting or not-
Update entries with the world.
Yawning.
Ticking clock.
Thinking
thinking
thinking
Too late.

Running running running

Session 2:
Let the clock strike 12.
Ah, makes more sense
though I didn't read.
I know but I don't know.

Walk.
What comes next?
Walk.
This turn here.
Walk.
Yes.

Session 3:
Information limit
Or lack thereof?
Last one to go.
Talking, sitting, listening.
Talking, sitting, listening.
Talking,
Midterm?
sitting,
Grades?
listening,
Future?

Distraction.


Walking (running), walking (running), walking (running).


Dinner:
With or alone?
Same question every night:
Friends?
Family?
Twins?
Chew. Independence?
Chew. Question mark?
Chew. Chew. Chew.
... Swallow.


Walk. You're that person from that time.
Walk. Hanging out.
Walk. Will I go out?
Walk. What's the borderline?
Walk. Finals?
Walk. What about summer?
Walk. Am I ready?
Walk. I wish there would be care.
Walk. The motivation to move.
Walk. Sedentary life.
Walk. Flab.
Walk. Love?


Starting the job (maybe).
Opening the book (ideally).
Doing the work.
Thinking:

not an option.

Thinking:

a passing thought.

shadow girl

I looked at her thighs--
boney thin and erect;
dim and graceful and
everything I wanted i
n myself and in my m
ind. Her legs, so slend
er and civil and classy
. Her arms, sleek as b
arbed wire, cold to th
e touch (her touch wa
s ever so vague and c
omplacent). She looke
d once familiar to me,
like a mirror rebound
ing off the asphalt ins
tead of glass. The "s
ilver" girl, (gold is exh
austed). Her face was
meaningless to me; a
clean slate--as clean a
s the chalkboards that
leave vague imprints a
fter furiously trying to
erase any lovely mista
k es. She is me, yet
I am not her.

I am so jealous.

I want her. I wa
nt to be
her.
.
.
.


- - - - -

Inspiration: A young girl once told me, "I wish I looked like my shadow" as we were walking outside one day. She was telling me this as she was looking at her shadow stretching across the concrete as the sun was setting (yet in this poem, I stated that the shadow is running along asphalt, not concrete). At such a young age, this girl was unhappy with her body weight. This poem is trying to reenact that dissatisfaction, yet I think it goes so much deeper than words can depict.

Stop the Presses!

Before someone gets hurt by what they read.
It hits the eyes of those that couldn't sleep.
Falls off their pillows, rolls on the carpet
Where they nestle in the fabric and rot, rot, rot...

Before someone gets hurt by the words
That hit the ears of listeners,
And instantly fall to the Earth
Where they plant themselves firmly in the dirt,

And grow, grow, grow...

My super-ego forbids it

this forbidden tango,
the uncoordinated
left-footed
waltz.

one step:

We loved each other.

second beat:

We almost kissed.

third turn:

you stepped on me.

fourth twist:

i truned aawy

fifth step:

i lsot my pcale


My super-ego forbids it,
my id says to LEAVE,
to find another twist-and-turner.
Someone who won't merely
"Carry you
(with
Footsteps
in the
Sand)."

but,

I want to dance.
I want to tango.

My ego says yes,
my heart says no.


It's paradoxical.


- - - - -

Just to clear up things... This poem isn't about love. It's about making an important decision... And if you caught this, I bolded the "t" in "tango" on purpose.

pathetic

you're pathetic

you stay up late, waiting for a call
waiting in the wings, you jump at any chance
you're just a backup, the last resort
when all other relationships fail, you're the sloppy seconds...
thirds... fourths..
you say you'll be there no matter what
you would go to the ends of the earth
you get walked all over, and you don't reply
you're just being used
taken advantage of
when are you going to grow a pair,
walk away, be strong?
when are you going to realize it's not going to happen?
it's NEVER going to happen.
you're pathetic.

i think if i tell that to myself in the mirror everyday, i'll learn how to walk away from you.


[sidenote]
i wrote this last night and after today's events, i think i have a better change of listening to myself now.

on a leash

sit.
stand.
heel.
jump.
speak.

you tug, i follow.
you're strong, i'm weak.
all your commands leave me confused.
but i'm here waiting,
waiting for your next order.

ps. i can't write for shit.

[Psychosocial] Moratorium

High on exploration, and I'm continuing this search.














No commitments [yet].

A Lack of Assertiveness

I waited for an opportunity to appear while there was no chance to begin with
Judging proved to be the most difficult and I still can't understand
what the influence was What the motivation is Or what the feeling is
that underlies my curious and overindulgent mind
There isn't one There is no opportunity
Because it never actually existed

Maybe you're oblivious, Or perhaps I'm just naive
But I can't continue to feel like
there's a time for everything.
I've tried to see the potential,
but the color's quickly fading;
the intensity's dulling up,
and I can't stop this transformation
of a Brilliant Light
To a blend of apathy

Where is the hope
when hope is nowhere within sight?
I wanted an answer; I prayed for one,
but prayer's becoming the fault of my objective--
My initiative to move.
The color's quickly fading,
and the intensity's dulling up,
but there's no more time for change--
There is No more chance,
No more opportunity;
Only reality,
only the wonder
i'm to be stuck with,
while you go on...

and i stay left behind.

The Greatest B....... Concept of All...Love

This is a short story that I recently wrote. Although this story does contain explicit language (Just look at the title!), it does indeed need these words to express the struggle between wanting to be very compassionate, understanding, and loving and the reality of being a total human being. However, the explicit language has been censored to a degree so that you as the reader can figure out what they are. I personally don't truly believe that love in itself is b........ However, especially when we are torn over our experiences of romantic love, we can't help but say that it is b........

To family and friend.

She was perhaps the best thing that has happened…ever. I felt totally cheesy thinking it, but she most definitely took my breath away. Man, if only there was something better to describe this feeling. Every time I saw her long, black, wavy hair, her smooth mocha skin, those huge brown eyes, those sensuous lips, I could not wait but have her around my arms. Even when we let go, her scent always lingered around my body. I loved that feeling.

We just chilled every early morning. That time when the darkness started to fade away and the sun began brighten up the sky. That’s exactly how I felt whenever I was with her. She brightened my day. Again, those cheesy lines. She always felt cold so she always cuddled close with my varsity jacket on, which I let her keep, and laid her head on my shoulder. Whenever the night came back, we just talked about life in her bedroom when we lied on her bed together, holding each other’s hands. I always thought that she had all the answers to the difficult questions to life. Yes, I know that may sound stupid, but she was just awesome to me.

I loved her. It felt that I was jumping the gun on this since we’ve only been together for about three months, but I can’t help it. I felt that I knew everything about her, from her favorite candy to her past experiences of her childhood. It was as if we’d been together for much longer. Whenever I described my relationship to my friends, they always said, “You’re probably moving way too fast.” or “What are you f…… stupid or something? Just relax a little.” But what do they know? They don’t have a relationship. They don’t know about actually loving anyone. Finally, I then had the balls to say it to her in one of our mornings, “I love you.” She just paused for a bit. Then she quietly, calmly said something as she caressed my hand, “I love you, too.”

Then we got into a fight. I don’t exactly remember why it happened. Probably it was something stupid. I just went home and slept for the night thinking, hoping it was okay. I woke up optimistic. Again, it was that time when the dark faded away and the sun slowly brightened up the sky. I then called her, no answer. I texted her, no response. I IMed (instant messaged) her, no reply. This was weird. Probably she was still a little ticked off about the situation. I just wanted to move on. I was ready to apologize regardless of whether or not it was my fault. I really wanted things back to normal.

However, that was absolutely not the case. For several days, no knock on the door, no phone calls, no texts, no IMs. Then several days turned to several weeks. What was going on? My mind was going crazy. Why won’t she talk to me? It even reached the point where whenever I logged on to AIM (American Online Instant Messanger), her screen name immediately turned from black to gray. It was pretty f…… obvious. She was ignoring me. Soon desperation turned to depression. I still loved her. She told me that she loved me. Again, very loaded statement. I found myself not enjoying the things that normally made me happy. Every night, I couldn’t even go to sleep without crying. I felt my masculinity disappear at this moment. Everyday, my heart just tightened up. My brain was pulsing rapidly against my skull. I felt I was getting crushed from within. I couldn’t even smile to anyone. I wanted to just hold her in my arms, to have her sent linger on my body. I wanted to say, sorry, sorry, sorry, so many times. I wanted to forgive, to be forgiven. However, there was nothing.

After several weeks, I got a response. However, it wasn’t through a knock on the door, not a written or typed letter, not a phone call, not even an IM. It was an email of all things. I opened it hoping that things would be okay. She wrote:

So I know I've been a complete prick about this whole situation and sending you and e-mail doesn't make up for any of that. If you really want to know why I did things the way I did keep reading or if you're done and moved on delete this. I was not the greatest girlfriend to you that I should've been. This entire time I've been ripping my mind apart trying to find something that you did to justify my actions but it doesn't exist. You were absolutely wonderful to me for the most part and I was an idiot and took it for granted. I mean neither of us was honestly anywhere near perfect and we both did screw up but I never did as much as I should've to get things to a better spot with you. So for my mistake I am infinitely sorry. You deserve someone who is so much better than me and can put you before anything in their life. I still love you and you haven't left my mind for even a second. This isn't me trying to make up everything and try to be in your life again because I don't deserve it. I just wanted to basically admit that you were right about me in some regard and tell you how incredibly sorry I am for being such a prick to you. To even show how sorry I am, your varsity jacket is going to be put in the mail because I know how much you care about it and I don't want to hurt you any further. If you don't ever want to hear from me again that's fine just know that you were somewhat right and I am an a...... for not being a better girlfriend in the time I had you.

That was it. An email filled with grammatical errors. It didn’t have my name on it. She didn’t even put her name on it. Perhaps deep down inside she didn’t want to admit that she wrote this. I frantically called her, texted her, IMed her. I still had hope. I wanted to talk. I wanted to see if I could help. I so much wanted to fix things. If there was a third person observing this right now, yes, she was acting like an a……. I was being extremely desperate. Many people would have said to just let go…it’s over. I didn’t want to admit it. I loved her.

Nevertheless, it took me four days to finally realize that it was over. There was nothing I could do. If only I could go back in time and fix things, but obviously that was not going to happen. She was someone special, someone I used to love. Eventually, my desperation, my depression turned to total anger. What the f… happened? What kind of s… was this? She was a total b…. for treating me like this. I cried for weeks over her. I tried to reach. I tried to be understanding, caring, loving, but nothing. I deleted her screen name when it was still gray. I removed her phone number from my cell. I want to yell at her face…f… you. How could she treat me like this? How could she say that she loved me and then leave me so broken down? Was she so cold, so stupid to realize that she had hurt me so much over this? I did nothing but to treat her well. It was love, damn it! Well, what a b……. statement that became. I felt like a total idiot. At the end of the day, I went to bed so angry. However, I couldn’t go to sleep without lamenting in my tears once more.

The next day came up. The room was cold because the window was open. The dark started to disappear, the sun slowly brightened up the sky. I looked out the window. This used to be a very special part of the day. I simply wanted to move on, to be indifferent over this. There was this saying that the opposite of love was not hate but indifference. I wanted to not care, to let go, but part of me couldn’t let go. It was probably because part of me loved her still. I just wanted to talk one more time, to get full closure. However, that will never happen. My heart still felt crushed. My brain was pulsing like crazy. If only she would talk to me one more time. I would ask her only one question. Just one question.

Why don’t you love me?

insight to Life

everyone else is writing poems too ;)
so i thought i would post mine:

when the trees fall down
and you know it inside.
snap up, straight up.
you got no where to hide.

make the best of what you got
be the envy of all.
when youre at rock bottom,
there is no where to fall.

we look to the past
to prepare for the north.
put one foot in front of the other.
don't you dare stop moving forth.

aches and pains
tear up my heart.
a few words of acknowledgment
make sure we never part.

words show you still care
that you want to be there.
your presence is more romantic
than sitting alone in a chair.

don't forget your friends.
don't forget your bests.
know who's good in your life:
separate them from the rest.

i think every day
of what we couldve had.
some different decisions
would make good instead of bad.

i dont regret the memories
though they always hurt.
just stay in my life,
yes you, you little squirt.

id like to give a shout out.
id like to thank my friends.
don't let me stop loving you guys
even at the world's end.

life is full of happiness.
live it every day.
don't let all the misery
get in the way.

sometimes inactiveness
is the world's greatest sin.
if we stand still
tell me how we're supposed to win.

i have my moments,
and we have our pain.
don't hold it in
cause then you will go insane.

i miss a lot of people,
im going to miss more.
lets keep our hearts close,
no excuses in store.

my comfort zone is large.
to succeed i'll probably leave.
let's make some more memories,
have faith, just believe.

for those who i neglect,
listen to my word:
i want you in my life,
longer than "Free Bird."

i like to be funny.
lets stop getting seriOus.
sometimes the best things in life
come from solving the mysterious.

you can't figure me out.
there's too much to learn.
id like to get to know you better,
its hard waiting my turn.

love comes from God.
no love? we're without Him.
the more love you have in your life,
the less your face'll be grim.

music is my key.
let me unlock the door.
it opens up the ears
to a new world to explore.

let it all out.
put it into words.
you feel much better
when you get to blurb.

what happened to rugrats?
they're all grown up.
tommy has a beard
and angelica is getting fucked.

girls like confidence.
they like good looks.
so if you're an ugly mofo
you better be able to read books.

i hope this give you insight
to part of my life.
i wrote this for everyone.
im removing the knife.

i've been tired of feeling lonely.
my life is really great.
this bad-good memories i get
can go sink in a lake.

It's a simple equation

I

am not

You.

charmaine invited me so i'm here... :-)

Understanding

The boundaries between letting go and giving up:
"Letting go" does not connote losing hope;
It means the opposite: you have more.
"Giving up" is the act of losing hope;
It means what it says.

Your piercing eyes hold me down.
I sit motionless under your venomous look.
I'll "never give up, never surrender."
(For all I know, I'll love you forever.)
But how can I let go when I'm not the one holding on?
Set me free: speak your truth.
You slither around on the ground
With a smirk, feeling so high and proud,
Making your own path and leaving nothing
But a small trace of your scent,
And a faint track of your gooey slime
After you finish your business.

Your piercing eyes holds me down.
You've left me stranded, cold, and trapped.
You've left me numb and paralyzed
Next to the shattered pieces of my nearly-still heart.
Please, let me live.
You've sucked the life out of me:
My will to live... my hope to love...
My faith to believe that I will survive.
Why not do me a favor and suck the only thing that's left:
Suck the poison out of my system.
You've already left your mark on my skin.
(And now I wear you on my sleeve.)
What else is there for you to take?

Your piercing eyes hold me down.
I sit dazed and delirious,
In the dark, like dirt
(because I once let you crawl all over me,)
Attempting to identify which is worse:
The "love scar" you left on me,
(The one left for all to see and mock me about--
The wound that's slowly starting to heal)?
Or all the love that's still within me
(The one you sucked on until I shriveled up--
The love you blatantly rejected)?
Bare naked, I sit for your taking.
With no strength to fight,
No spirit to give up,
I let you stare me down as
I sit motionless under your venomous look.

Make Your Move

My forest: moonlit;
Enough to find my way around,
Too dim to be able to read.
Why must it be this way?

I swear I caught you staring at me.
I saw the look in your eyes.
I saw it in your face:
The memories I want to erase
From this thing called "life".

Regrets? Honestly, I have a few.
But I don't wish to call them mistakes.
I refuse to believe that I mistook
You for a fragile, fervent, fucker.
I refuse to believe that God has led me
Down this winding, dirt road as a joke
To mock and humiliate my weaknesses.

I refuse to believe that I'm the only one at fault for the blaring silence.

The situation room.

Let's start the debate:

I'll be an axon,
and you'll be the brain.
And we'll duel
(to a certain extent).

Conscience says:
"Hear me,
hear me.
You're the good girl;
now do as I say and get drunk
on sodium-potassium waves
raging through your vulnerable bones.
Your spinal cord is mine."

Heart says (meekly and soul-driven): i dun haf ta lissen ta yah blasfemic propeganda alla des wurds alla deese dots dey are HEART-drivin--MINE for da keepin'.

(and, from heaven descents, an Eagle of tumored proportions
perching on the pedestal with defiant radiance and quiet,
yet entrenched, Position! Authority! Ethos!)

He said to the duelists (strictly and hopefully as a MEDIATOR):
" 'Relax,' said the wise man.
Approach with rationality,
but abandon practicality
if your fight ends to the
death. And when all
other things fail,
choose wisely."

......

Alas, my friends. The duel is on, but the flame isn't extinguished.
The torch is burning and running nationwide.
The battle isn't ending. It runs in circles and circles.
When will it end? This debate?
Oh, how I hate arrogant competitors.

For This One Moment.

[Note: This is a song I wrote back in 2003 - my sophomore year of high school. It's about some overly-melodramatic event that happened during my freshman year. Obviously the lyrics are irrelevant to me now, but it's the sentimental value of the song that matters. Because whenever I listen to this song, it reminds me of being a pre-pubsecent, angst-ridden, emo-teenager. Haha.]

We've been hiding desolately underneath the lies.
One day when I'm lucky, I'll catch your eyes.
There'll be this moment of confusion - you just forgot him.
And I'll be the only thing in your mind.
Out of the past three years there's still one that remains.
The one period of time when I swept you away.
A point in our lives that we'd give anything to have.
A promise to stay with me; a promise you could never keep.

For this one moment your lips are mind.
For this one moment I can't lie.
For this one moment you're here with me.
I'd give anything for this to last forever.

How can we get back together after everything that's happened?
I could never pull myself together and forget what you did with him.
Football games will never be the same after that cold September night.
The one that you apparently erased from your life.
You promised that you'd stay with me forever and a day.
But she's keep her promise just in a different way.
But I still have these sleepless nights where I picture you in my head.
And I'm keeping you alive along with everything you ever said.

red-ribbon.

Oh, my Arms.
they limp with a familiar pain, a numbing pain,
surging through weary vessels
almost like electric shocks.
Periodic shocks. Incessant, deliberate shocks.
This is I, charged for cardiac arrest,
post-stamped, and dated for the dumps.


I'm going for skeletal.

Promise.

Scribbling on the Mead...

i was awestruck at your cleverly-devised wrinkles,
etched with penmanship that had only been so heartily abused within the last 20 years or so.

Nevertheless, your eyes tell me a story—
a sad story—
of pain and suffering in the graveyard hours of the
night shift,
so blatantly emphasized by your whining and crying and complaining that we hear all too often
to just plainly ignore.
Oh, don't you (can't you) see?
COACH bags are much too sumptuous for your frail bones:

arthritis, carpal tunnel, back cists, headaches, side aches, heart aches, sleep deprivation, mind renovation, the MRIs and the therapy...

but you still plead (with a smile!) to shop,
and to smile,
and to assure me that everything is downright FANTASTIC (with a capital "f-a-c-a-d-e").

the clockwork woman,
the clockwork woman.
please don't do this to yourself.

S'ya Lang

So small, so fragile,
You look past me with your squinted eyes,
Avoiding any form of eye contact.
Not only will you see me,
I will see you.

So large, so strong,
You stand firm with your gaze and pride,
Attempting to pick up, pack up and run
Away to your sanctuary
Which we once called “ours.”

So small, so strong,
Your heart beats incessantly,
As it has been for years and years gone by,
Longing for what seems to be the probable loss,
Longing for the possibility of gains.

So large, so fragile,
Your wall that guards your soul, thoughts and emotions,
Appropriately constructed by torn memories,
As it protects you from pain and anguish,
Shielding you from love and intimacy.

So small, so large,
Your image of perfection, promptness, and purity
Always campaigned by your example
Unintentionally deceiving your peers
Unexplainably blinding you.

So fragile, so strong,
Your merciless opinions and power of influence
Among those who adore but spite your demeanor
Broken by one word
Erected by one grunt.

So strong. So small. So fragile. So large.
You were that. That you were.
Always.

S’ya Lang. Ikaw lamang.