Saturday, October 31, 2015

Go to noisy places to block out the voices in your head.

Move along with the crowd to be truly alone.

Listen intently if you want to speak.

Drink to drown something you want dead inside of you.

To shout all alone in the wild is to whisper your thoughts just so someone may hear you.


Friday, October 30, 2015

Writing is a lot like masturbation. You get an itch to do it. Inspiration and musing are your porn. You browse the archives in your head and sift through the infinite thoughts that are rushing in and around your head. Pick one – the perfect clip, the most appetizing idea. And then you go over it in your mind. You have to stroke it to make something happen. It’s not the prettiest thing to say but it’s the truth and the truth usually doesn’t look gorgeous. It is raw, naked, and most likely tastes bad. Writing is something you do to yourself to see if you’re even capable of creating. It’s a practice and only by doing it as many times as you can, only can you become acceptable if not good at it. After the flurry of ideas, the falling of letters onto paper, you look at what you came up. Read it. Read it again. Read it some more. Did you like what you created? Don’t feel bad. Do it again. You only feel two things after you do the deed. Ecstasy – seeing what you created, being happy with the outcome, savouring the direction of it all. Or you feel guilty after. You loathe. You regret you even made the decision to do it in the first place. You feel disgust but that’s okay. No one is without sin just as no single piece of poetry or prose is infallible and the all-time great. Just remember - it’s all in the wrist.


This is a test.

A friend dropped a book on my desk to help me with my self-imposed writer’s block. Funny thing about it is that the book is titled “Writer’s Block” and literally looks like a block. It’s composed of different writing exercises to help writers get a move on in their creative pursuit.

Here are some of my handpicked exercises and the pieces I had written to “answer” them.

“Write about the worst driving you’ve ever done.”

I’m a terrible person behind the wheel. My worst driving experience was during one of my father’s birthdays. We started this particular celebration by drinking at around 9 a.m. I excused myself from work, told my boss that I got sick the night before from trying to get a 
gift for my old man. What a piece of shit.

As always when we drink, we drank hard. It was a binge fest. After a couple 3 bottles of liquor, we cleaned up and drove to another spot to meet different people to “celebrate” a bit more. I was the one driving. I passed out on the table after a few beers and only remembered waking up and paying for the tab. I was piss drunk but I insisted that I should be the one to drive. After all, my father was far better at this game than me.

So to finish off, the worst driving I’ve ever done was something I can’t entirely remember. And the worst thing about it is I lived to write about it. What dumb luck.


Poetry night, every night. Bottles of beer stood proudly on the table. They are inviting in their emptiness. Another night of solitude for Jake. Two women made their way to their spot. He didn’t even blink. They shot down that plane even before it took off. They said they were Jersey boys – two young salesmen peddling their wares on the streets. They didn’t know their product was not currency in this town. The management didn’t allow strangers to hold the mic.

“Valentine’s Day”

These yuppies are hooked. It wasn’t E. Meth was too country for this crowd and besides, who else in their honest mind would want their teeth to fall out? Also, too much stuff is needed to smoke that shit. The bulb looks too messy. Foil is brittle and obvious. Don’t get me started on the smell and the taste. That shit is just nasty. But this, this is the drug of tomorrow. It’s something that you can actually enjoy putting in your mouth. Sweet with a bit of tang. Wait for it. Wait for it. There. It’s a “lay me down” shit is what it is. A sting on the end will pull you back. But remember, look for the brand “SO FINE” to know that you’re getting grade A stuff. You should be able to read it on that heart-shaped candy. If it looks cracked and all brittle, walk away. Get your money’s worth.

“Bad Hair Day”

Fuck it. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Ay yo what’s the hold up? Let’s go! Let’s go!

Shit. This thing is itchy as hell! Fucking fucks.

What you gotta wear that piece of shit thing for huh?

Shut up man. Just let me do my thing and I’ll let you do yours, ayt?! I ain’t messing with 
your do, man.

All I’m saying is why wear a wig when you can just wear a mask?

Yo, people in that joint ain’t gonna complain that Donald Trump hit them.

You have such bad taste.

I wouldn’t go that far to describe your sister, man.


The cat lady on 10th. I wonder how many cans of tuna does she go through a week?

 Mr. Douchebag on the 9th. It’s not Porsh. It’s Por-shuh. Suck a dick.

  Emily on 8th. Really? Mr. 9th Floor?

   7th. Looks like Ray isn’t home yet.

    6th. Those two brewers have really good taste in music.

     5th. Still empty.

      Jesus Christ that brunette on 4th has a rocking body.

        3rd floor. Shit. I forgot to turn off the light in the kitchen. Good thing I~~~


I am poisoned.
I am poison.
The face in the mirror is unrecognizable.
He wonders what had happened to the crusade.
Battle born.
Scarred with self-inflicted wounds.
Who is this person?
Why does he look tired?
Maybe it’s because of all the feigning.
There is no antidote.
No panacea.
Just more alcohol
And cigarettes
And ashes
And smoke
And fast women.
It pays to be free.
You pay to ONLY believe
that you are free.
I’ve spent more than what my body can cash in.
I’d like to think that I’m the spider.

Yet I am the fly.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Pagluha. Banayad na dumaloy ang bawat patak sa iyong mukha. Marahan. Payapa. Sinasalungat ito ng dibdib mong di matimpi ang alimpuyo ng damdamin, apoy, at alaala. Tila isang dibuho kung saan nag-aagaw ang kulay at mensahe. Sa bawat guhit, ikaw ang inaalala ngunit pilit mong nililimot.


Monday, October 12, 2015

Tayo at Sila

Tayong mga nasisilaw sa kintab ng mga bagay
Tayong mga nagsisikap para sa luho
Tayong mga sabik na magpakitang gilas
Tayong sawa sa mga kapritsohan ng buhay ngunit patuloy na bumibili
Tayong mga sumusuko sa kalsada ngunit gigising kinabukasan para sumabak uli
Tayong mga bulag, pipi at bingi - nagmamaang maangan sa hinagpis ng estado
Tayong mga walang pakialam sa kanila

Silang walang mga mukha
Silang walang mga pangalan
Silang mga walang tirahan
Silang silat sa katarungan
Silang mga nakabukas ang palad
Silang mga sabik sa dunong at pagkakataon na ipinagkakait
Silang mas mapagbigay pa kahit sariling isusubo na lang ay inaagaw pa
Sila sana ang nauna pero tayo pa rin ang mabilis

Tayo ang maramot sa katiting na handog
Tayo ang ilag sa kanila dahil sa kanilang panlabas na itsura
Tayo ang lumalayo dahil sa mga konseptong nakatanim sa isipan natin
Tayo ang sakim at sarili lamang ang iniisip
Tayo ang kawawa sa huli
Ginhawa o konsensya?