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What gives out authenticity
Leaning towards unfiltered reality?
Tell me how can I see
That I and they say is the real me?

A being governed by time
A soul separated from the divine
Annointed keeper of the self
Posturing as the impression of depth.

Indifferent towards the apparent terminus
Compact strides with the daily onus
Drifting on interim spaces
Figuring out the rest of the ages.
I think we underestimate how overwhelming it is,
Unknowingly hiding under absurdism and comedy,
Climbing clockwork cliffs for some inner peace,
Trying to find clarity in the muddled nows of tragedy.

Deep breaths for another duplicate of tonight,
Making sense of waking moments as we see some light.
Asking oneself, "Are these feelings right?,"
Given varied consciousness of the same plight?

Slowly we try to make space for some needed nothing,
Catch some air, look at some greens, and just surrender.
The fleck that challenged the universe started learning,
Be reminded that no one narrative is greater nor lesser.

Tonight is a happening of an ever-changing now,
Live it, ride it, rule it in ways you know how.
Give in to reasoned and reckoned submission,
Walk towards the collision of the warranted delusion.
Originally written on 29 May 2020 00:40
Mar 21 · 48
L.I.T.T.O.C.
An affirmation of distance of what is and what needs to be,
No wonder one sees and feels similar sequences.
That which lives privy haven't yet been freed,
The self is pretty far from effectuating further phases.

"It started a new daydream nonetheless,"
An old line proving pragamatic in the contemporary.
Followed by a sudden halt, the endless pause pressed,
Cave in, yield, and wait for things to be once more arbitrary.

We'll wake up and count the sum of the days,
How what was months before was now in full tilt.
Let a new day take over as time surely pays,
As an exhilirative eventuality is bit by bit being built.
Written 18 March 2020
Mar 21 · 38
What now?
A bridge no one crosses becomes a statue of solitude,
A reminder that a form is purposeless sans its essence.
Sudden waves come as a legion, a multitude,
Overwhelming you with matters that yet again seem to make no sense.

Perhaps it was the imagination of the crossing that ruined it,
Or might be the region where it was mistakenly built.
The structure is here now and waiting for its fate,
Will it be a picture of what could be or will it be a realized gate?

Time will pass and it will certainly grow old,
We can maintain it or let rust reach its core.
Whatever happens, stories will be told,
If the thing was a bridge, speculating what it was for.
Written 18 March 2020
Mar 2 · 52
Unanchored
Not feeling myself these couple of yesterdays,
As if I don't puzzle in well in my own mold.
Looking for the blur that once was of praise,
Stuck in a form pretending to be wise and old.

I think I need what was for what will be,
Ah; the agony of existing between then and now.
Wondering if this mind will ever be free,
To actually relearn the whys and a few hows.

Why do I seem like a tragedy waiting to happen?
A fire that is continuously being put out?
Half the universe of ideas the mind did sharpen,
Are those of tiny voices shut when want to shout.

"It's all in my head, it's all in my head,"
As I try to breathe and attempt to calm myself up.
Close my eyes and go to the familiarity of the bed,
Just to wake up anticipating that one big drop.
Feb 20 · 45
Excite me
We are aware of time, we are aware of our youth,
But why is it still hard to see some hope?
This is bothersome, that's the truth,
Have you seen us? Improvising life to cope?!

We let minutes pass by knowing it's wasted,
Had a thought, had a plan, but held up,
By that which keeps anxiety sedated,
More, higher, stronger -- never enough.

Getting through the day, impostor,
Beaming both sappy smirks and so-so smiles,
Noting, jotting, moving from door-to-door,
Mixing memories and imagination of miles!

Light shines, light enters, lights, eyes,
The day commences and you convince yourself,
Whether have a breakfast of lies,
Or try, and give onself some good help.
Could it be problem sleeping
When sleeping is the problem?
What if the actual dozing
Is the source of the whole mayhem?

After nighttime, sunrises,
Lights up yet fails to beam up one's day,
Instead, probes your supposed places,
A fertile loam where anxiety can play.

I don't know what I'm waiting for,
Still I wait for it anyway.
May I find ways towards humor,
Maybe life and I can meet halfway.
Feb 8 · 46
Hello
Is this what ought to be,
Are these the sights I wanna see?
Is this how I wanna feel,
Each day the sunrise turns real?

This was dreamland of yesteryears,
Now a solid ground for hope and fears.
Young and stupid or old and wise?
Breathe; and tell yourself what applies.

Live; and remember these days,
This surely is a way how a story plays.
Gravitate towards your center,
There are new places we're about to enter.
written 3 Feb 2020
Allan Pangilinan Aug 2019
And the thought arrived and it demanded to be written,
As if it was some nation’s citizen deserving of life and liberty,
Still we see our fingers working, our thoughts spreading,
Thus we succumb, thus we surrender, thus we write.

The ideal is known as sitting under a tree, running through forest,
Grasping for air yet losing it all on undying laughter,
Was it something I said or is it because this is my first time?
Convincing myself I have stopped thinking about it yet here we are.

These pillows have lived in parallel universes and realities,
Looking far wondering, “Is this how they see us? How they feel?”
With lofi beats as soundtrack of this rainy  and chilly afternoon,
We were reminded yet again of whom we’ve been.

And so thoughts will keep on demanding, will keep on arriving,
It’s for us to stitch them to a larger narrative — not snippets but cores,
This way we will know who we will be because of them good old days,
When you find yourself sitting on a different, yet emotionally familiar place.
Jul 2019 · 59
Western Independence
Allan Pangilinan Jul 2019
Thank you society for ******* me — us — hard
Indeed, no one dies a ****** with you around
Thank you for the cornucopia of insecurity
For the endless seeds of doubts magnified
For the fragility we have chosen not to guard
Pitting us alikes ‘til you have curated your sound
Pulling us deeper and chains us in self-pity
Knowing that we’ll never be surely makes you satisfied
Then alas you get to blame us for our own shards
Managing to scar us despite being on ground
Turned us into strangers in our own city
Leaving us with nothing — not even being dignified
Allan Pangilinan Jun 2019
I am happy but I am envious
As it hit me once again who I am
Isn’t at par with the life I wanna live
Should dreaming be actually encouraged
In a society that sets up barriers
Chained with institutionalized cherry picking
Directing someone else’s life

I sleep I will awake — gasping for more time
Safe moments on bed — alone, yes
Defeated by them sneaky dark dogs around
They are silent but they are surely heard
Floods you with thoughts you’d wanna bury
Fighting with words yet immortalizing how it is
With seals weak, only a sec ‘til it barks again

How can you riddle out that which has no logic
Luck and tyranny rules the playing field
Fed with the ****** up and ****** imagery
That makes one appreciate someone less
By looking more than listening, knowing
How have I ended up here on this forsaken time
Will I ever or could I ever build a life of rhyme
May 2019 · 84
Crown Skull Grinder
Allan Pangilinan May 2019
I taste of ash -- of something burnt,
Takes me sub-atomic through wrinkles in time.
Perhaps that explains the right shoulder's pain,
Or the blood from the spit flushed down the drain.

You've been drinkin', smokin', well, wastin'
The thought came to fruition.
Good old limbo knocks and gets all comfortable,
Leave -- like how we know are able.

Find a way to shake universe's hand,
Without fire and heat, in enclosed spaces of insecurity,
Be able to find yourself in somewhere new,
A place in your thoughts you've always known to be true.
Apr 2019 · 74
Pass on the pipe
Allan Pangilinan Apr 2019
We believe we have reached some level of efficiency,
As we are a bit more able in thinking about things,
Or so we believe? Or so we believe.
Now rhythm is less more of a containment.

Yes we saw more and did some things new,
Yet still are left optimistic, idealistic —
Pretty much left under their magic,
Yet needed to be acknowledged is how they unintendedly made you better.

Sadness and inadequacy still incites some inner soul intersection,
With the rest of joy, excitement, thrill, warmth, — that rare air,
A bit more disciplined is what we think we have arrived at,
Waiting to be fired at any moment — to take us to either thinking or nothing at all.

Less we forget to remind ourselves that we are what we’ve been looking for,
Let you be the proof of the fragility and vulnerability, of the strength and the beauty,
Every here on out has been leaps of faith to lives of uncertainty,
Still we smoke and have a laugh, get drunk and **** — live to see and try.
Allan Pangilinan Apr 2019
Though the prequel might be notes,
This one deserves to be written.
Little changes in one’s post,
Wondering how to waltz from three to seven.

The valentine on Thursday,
Was, now is, but for how long?
Are we ready for what comes one day,
When we’ll listen and hear a new song.

The quirks and uncertainties are adorable,
Warmth, comfort, a sense of familiarity,
Bathing in dopamine of every world able,
Live ‘til we see and move in a different city.
Mar 2019 · 75
Holy X Quad Lovers
Allan Pangilinan Mar 2019
Nothing was new to the phrase,
Real and ideal — what we like and what we need.
A good rhyme or a logical flow?
Only to end up somewhere new.

This place is pretty unsettling,
Yet reflective as it can get.
As there might be rhythm we’ll start hearing,
Or a structural visual flow you’ll begin seeing.

Let it take you to the unfamiliar sights,
So you could unearth your cave of thoughts.
Feel the light and cloud fill your every side,
No more fear as you’ll be with your holy ghost.
Mar 2019 · 40
Processing
Allan Pangilinan Mar 2019
New data comes in and refined
Using past encounters and memories alike
Critiques the story’s every side
To assign a meaning that should be right
A thought that usually needs more than one head’s light
Seeks to be processed by the one who writes.
Feb 2019 · 80
Adios Blanca
Allan Pangilinan Feb 2019
Should it even be written?
Where one shows up and ticks boxes,
Only to sweet talk you,
And never be.

Indeed, another lesson learned,
Processing is more manageable —
Let’s hope at the very least —
We’ll get by and get through sooner.

Now there’s a bit more understanding,
Managed realities, in touch with ‘The’,
Surely it will be yet another phantom limb,
Etched, appreciated, in his own special bed.
Well this is the second part to what was supposed to be a good season (at least I imagined). The one — the lighter one — entitled “The Making of a Daydream” was written on the journal and will be shared sometime soon.
Dec 2018 · 80
To the Us Who Have Been
Allan Pangilinan Dec 2018
It may be pretty early to tell,
Who we think we were before.
Just due to the time we think was spent well,
Still a thought we know belongs to our core.

It’s odd and introspective to say the least,
Meeting ourselves through others we meet.
We remember how with the times we did feast,
Ending days feeling like nothing but dumb ****.

The “weird” attachment during the first sight,
Is something we think may not be right,
Yet those days when we thought we could fight,
Ideas sounded badass and bright.

The unwillingness of the touch that we give,
Nonchalance and indifference it is.
I say this will help us truly forgive,
What was — to that which felt bliss.

Now we have met who we were,
We learn how the mind of that stranger goes.
As that who was unknown was made clear and bare,
We appreciate that life’s taught by some semblance of loss.

What was is know what is to you,
The role has changed and so did you,
So now we collect and study every clue,
The you that will be complete and true.
Allan Pangilinan Dec 2018
Does it really need some counsel --
What you think merits a discussion?
Or a surge of validation as they do tell --
Poking fun on your mind’s imagination.
There is a need to cross this certain level
As near the end is a lemon-scented creation.

Options are not just the old old and new,
But of perceived passion, service, or stability
Answers that lead to the next you,
Duty or happiness – which will be pretty?
Go on and find one more true hue,
Learn your ways and know thyself in this dichotomy.
Allan Pangilinan Dec 2018
It was another journey to write a story
So we unify with all the parts defeating gaps
Then we heard songs that were keys to the sunrise
That was blinding yet was just about to be

We welcome our guests for some chats
Hearing your thoughts with full clarity
That one of the reasons why
As it is just part of your long allegory

Like the dawn I also realized one thing
That is yet to be stronger echoing back
That voice that will call the commonality
And on that day -- we will all be free
Nov 2018 · 232
Yeah; harmless
Allan Pangilinan Nov 2018
My brain is on overdrive metathinking,
Knowing that these thoughts don’t matter.
Still, let me share how that harmless phrase marked my being,
As you’ve pulled me back from a place of feeling better.

Now I see them again — the imperfections,
How something will always be missing from me.
How cold I will feel in seasons and situations,
Those weird quirks I wish would leave and let me be.

You have stolen hours of my bedtime,
In an age when rest is rare and richer when real.
Freed a dark thought from my mind,
That wanders around striking mountains of sad deals.

I was no longer fighting for anyone,
Yet you managed to remind me that I have lost.
I really thought that the worst me has long been gone,
Yet on the mirror I see myself as clear and as cold as a ghost.

Now his face appears in the darkness again,
As I drift back to the shadows of night.
Those words started another one of my heaviest rains,
One that takes time to see even just a flicker of light.
Nov 2018 · 2.6k
Hey
Allan Pangilinan Nov 2018
Hey
kamusta ka?
kamusta araw mo?
ah ganun ba..
ako din
bawal madaya!
just play along
yaan mo na yun!
kumain ka na?
ligo lang ako
nakita mo na ba yung post?
***** tayo
dito na ako
saya no?
next time ulit
i like this
Allan Pangilinan Nov 2018
The new normal feels similar but not quite,
It’s a little bit of what was with what might be.
With it being neither wrong nor right,
It’s also full of what is and todays, the self now - me.

Indeed there’s the sensation of nothingness and everything,
Fluctuating yet definitely not flatlining.
The waves are complementing and not cancelling,
With it brings a whole new kind of vibe and ring.

As this is temporary, a trial, some sort of planned practice,
I hope to learn what I need to.
May I find some semblance of real and actual peace,
As, in this hole, I jump and hopes to come through.
Nov 2018 · 50
rest
Allan Pangilinan Nov 2018
we become the guy who walks up the rooftop to smoke
after sneaking some happiness inside the loo
embraced by and paranoid about the darkness and shadows
breezing as you puff your cigarette
feeling calm and light
the sky is based with an ocean at night
with a blanket of purple smoke
silhouettes of life around
you hear yourself again
we hear distant cars and busy streets

from the rooftop we have chosen to walk up to
Nov 2018 · 5.4k
Darating din ang balang araw
Allan Pangilinan Nov 2018
Sapagkat ngayon ay matututo tayo sa mga bagay na 'di natin maintindihan,
Kakapit tayo sa mga talinhagang kahit ang mga pilosopo ay hirap sa pagpapaliwanagan.
Susubok at susugal sa bukas na walang kasiguraduhan,
Sabay aasa sa pangako ng isang tunay na hinaharap na makakamtan.

Dahil ang damdamin ay nakaalpas na sa paghangad,
Ngayo'y may sinusundang tahakin na mas marapat.
Saya at ligaya para at ng sa iba sa isipa'y nailapat,
Mga naisin at mithiin ay nauunawaang hindi agad-agad.

Ngayon ay marapat na mabuhay sa kasalukuyan,
Damhin ang ligaya, kalungkutan, at lahat ng sa gitna'y mararamdaman,
Sa buhay, sarili natin ang ating tangan,
Balang araw, kung anuman, ay ating mahahagkan.
Nov 2018 · 48
Fundamentals of Reading
Allan Pangilinan Nov 2018
Whilst we were taught how to identify metaphors and other figures of speech,
It is wise to be conscious where these devices don’t exist.
As commanded by nature, we may not know when to stop to leech,
On a barren land which whole story is nothingness in gist.

There may be some times when blue is melancholy, sky, or peace,
Yet most of the time, blue is just blue — it is what it is.
Be cautious of perceived cues and don’t read what isn’t to be read,
Especially on a book that the author never lent.

The thirst for knowledge and hunger for answers will always itch,
Trying to fight its way to live and address all what ifs,
Be wise, be discerning, be a fool in playing your game,
As the new or next chapter may be a boon or a bane.
Allan Pangilinan Oct 2018
Kailan kaya tititigil, hihinto, mawawala?
Ang mga Gabriela na ating nakikilala?
Isang ideya na kay hirap tapusin, kitilin, hawiin,
Nasa looban ay may markang nagdiin.

Nawa’y patuloy nga ating paglakas,
Nang sa susunod ay wala sa isip ang pagtakas,
Bagkus ay kapayapaan at kaliwanagan,
Ang pupuno nang higit sa kaisipan.

Kung malamig lamigin,
Kung mainit mainitan,
Basta sa susunod ay may kumot,
Pamaypay nang mahanganinan.

Magbabago rin pagkat mawawala ang mga Gabriela,
Paglahong walang pasabi ngunit may ganda,
Sa langit natin lahat ay natutuwa,
Nahanap na. Nahanap na.
Oct 2018 · 568
Live other worlds
Allan Pangilinan Oct 2018
Creating realities after realities is a nice practice,
A bit dangerous as well when done myopically.
The ability to empathize to points of others’ specificity,
Writes a narrative now more than one can see.

We take our blinders off,
And open the doors of the world.
Be cautious in listening to the self alone,
For other beats may give you a better rhythm.

Why remain the protagonist
In an epic of false dichotomies?
When you can be no one
In a prose that makes sense arguably?

A step back is a mere change of direction,
Nothing is similar as fire may be the basic stuff of the universe.
Breathe the air of the proverbially found boys,
Yet be sharp to be conscious of the notes you hear that you enjoy.
Try to choose it.
Oct 2018 · 162
Keep surprising yourself
Allan Pangilinan Oct 2018
It started as a counterfactual,
A means to test a personal theory of change,
Assessed which thoughts had the turn to be vocal,
Decided to give space for the ones on the positive range.

One must learn how to drench oneself in the sea of light,
Just how one dives in the depth of darkness.
One must acknowledge that warmth is possible,
In the same way that cold is inevitable.

How to sustain is a problem for another day,
What’s vital is to live where we are, when we are.
Let the the twists of the many plots roll and play,
Yes, we are near; and yes, we are far!

We learn who we are by knowing who we are not,
We try, we risk, we take a chance,
We may not have the others’ lot,
We still have some rhythm for our personal dance.

Unload yourself with the romanticized fiction,
Listen to the voices that truly matter.
Focus on a worthwhile direction,
Surprise yourself as you go farther and further.
Oct 2018 · 70
The Bell Rings
Allan Pangilinan Oct 2018
When does age stop being an excuse?
To be dumb and to be fool?
How do we show that this brain was, indeed, did put to use?
For reasons not to just be in nor to just be cool?

Why do I even put thoughts into this?
Not as if it matters or for anything it means?
Is it hope for some improbable bliss?
Do we film would-never be seen scenes?

Perhaps it’s pride that dictate us,
To look sharp and smart as how they branded us,
Yet for a time could they give us a pass?
Allow some growth that isn’t a pity fuss?

For some reasons there’s a need to impress,
As past actions missed a stretch for one’s consideration,
Let me show that I am not a total mess,
That I, too, am a driven addition.

Provide me some chances to show,
That I am better than what you think you know,
I am navigating my way through this world,
Let me be and who I am unfold.
Sep 2018 · 600
A shared revolution
Allan Pangilinan Sep 2018
Ideas are bulletproof that is why they are harder to win over,
Especially when affirming instances come one after the other.
The body succumbs while the mind knows better,
Hopping from one stone to the other hoping we get to a constant somewhere.
Throbbing wind whispers a beep,
Rushing cars swooshing their trip,
Her voice looking at me knowingly,
“You know it but here’s the story.”
The high improbability and the comparisons,
The stretch that echoes unfounded sounds,
The conversation that could’ve been,
Shall and must remain as a romanticized fiction,
Started, peaked, jumped, risked, failed, hoped, failed, and left for the conclusion.
As you have absolutely no choices,
To raise your eyes and ears is something to give your best.
Everyone’s kinda moving,
It’s not a race but for everyone the road is ending.
I would still have that grin, whisper, and crookedness,
Inasmuch as nothing of those are even close to any semblance of realness.
I must remain the best parts of what I have to offer,
A refined, mature, swaying, itching, panacea of everything you wish I wish I could cater.
Sep 2018 · 508
Getting there
Allan Pangilinan Sep 2018
You do weird things when you don’t know what to do,
Like to refuse a kiss just because something will see what you do,
Or offer a hug that will be awkward for the two of you.
You try to figure **** out,
Seeking multiple advice without doubt,
With ultimately following your instincts all throughout.
I should not but, I apologize as I feel that is how interest feels like,
As if you were to plunge as your training wheels were pulled out of the bike,
Or that thing in your stomach when you are to speak in crowds and are given the mic.
I’d say I shouldn’t have done it,
Yet saying that would mean nothing as I feel no guilt,
I am learning — creating the me that I know and feel I can be built.
Oh, but hey, that doesn’t mean that if given the chance I won’t take,
To go at it again for fun and freedom’s sake,
Let’s do it and enjoy being each other’s mistake.
Sep 2018 · 173
Inevitable?
Allan Pangilinan Sep 2018
I fear the day that I start learning,
As knowing will eventually make me stop caring.
Well I am afraid I have no choices,
I just have to play and jump through the phases.

While nothing is wrong with changing,
I don't want to lose the sense of my being.
We hope we turn out better,
So we have something good saved for later.

Out of sight, out of mind,
May some peace we eventually find.
We seek hoping we're sought,
At least we'd say we fought.
Aug 2018 · 98
Sight
Allan Pangilinan Aug 2018
The world is a series of Plato's cave,
Where one tries to free thyself every now and then.
Each time thereafter we hope we come out brave,
Battling all lions in the previous den.

Every time we get out, we become different,
Our understanding is broadened,
Definitions aren't always what they meant,
Connotations continuously append.

How many times have we said, "I know better now,"
Just to be slapped with something we thought we knew.
We might have a semblance of the answer to "How?"
Yet iterations immerse us to the world anew.

For today, I say that I see clearer - again,
Only now am I equipped with other nuances.
This knowledge might be obsolete in near time dear friend,
But now I acknowledge to comprehend all the processes.

While it's true that I have seen blue,
I have yet to see cerulean, cyan, and prussian.
And while I know red as I believe I've seen it's hue,
I have yet to discover carnelian, persian, and venetian.

We take stock of what we've experienced,
Build on the foundations that we have made.
Someday, sometime, somehow, it will make sense,
One day, we will be able to identify and act on every shade.
Aug 2018 · 432
Crimson crusade
Allan Pangilinan Aug 2018
We are now back to regular programming,
Plugged back in the normal curve of our every day.
The high from the pill is rapidly wearing off,
Proactively looking for a more stable source.
I have arrived to the conclusion that I have to find someone like me:
The sender of the first message,
The one who cares more,
The half in a better half.
I am trying this thing called vulnerability,
To learn all possible probabilities.
The thrill-seeking, trigger-happy one,
Plunges to the void right after the day is done.
To find someone like me would mean I can be like them --
Like them but better.
Though who am I to cast verdicts on personality,
As the grand cosmos is something all of us cannot see.
The downward spiral wants to be freed,
Enlightenment is what we need.
Get through the day, the week, the month, the year or so,
Get through Time
As Time is the ancient incantation for liberty,
We know we can and some time we will be.
Aug 2018 · 163
The Messy Queen
Allan Pangilinan Aug 2018
So it was done,
To the scarlet universe we’ve seen.
With a few only have been,
Cementing it before it’s gone.

The patience was noted,
The sight was magnificent,
The reality we just bent,
The fusion that deserves to be applauded.

Now what ought to do?
To warp to such beauty again?
Still gotta visit that special den,
To be light, to be pure, to be true.
Just remind oneself that there are good days.
Aug 2018 · 109
Null
Allan Pangilinan Aug 2018
For the pessimist is never disappointed,
I choose not to be excited about things that could happen.
Better to have thoughts unelevated,
Than a mind lifted only to be misshapen.

At first there was the struggle,
A storm succeeded with perceived freedom.
But now the walls quashed spread a rubble,
Helpless, we feel like we're left to be dumb.

No more downs, but no ups either,
Plateaued in a flatline trapped in time.
Thinking if an examined life is indeed better,
Or if ignorance is just an unexplored yet beautiful paradigm.

We dive back to not feeling a thing,
To guard our fragile, yet strongly projected, existence.
Although uncertain how long we can cling,
To ultimately be presented with the gift of presence.
Aug 2018 · 1.2k
Filtered
Allan Pangilinan Aug 2018
Perception has always been people's reality,
What we see is what we mainly look for.
We leave good probabilities for an ideal possibility,
Putting an 'open' sign in front of a closed door.

Today, the social voices are louder,
Where the old rich are still deities and privileged trends are gods,
We fall prey to what they cater,
Wishfully hoping that we're favored by the odds.

Addicted to the momentary high of a 'match',
Eyes glued to a notification of a new tap.
Everyone believes they are a catch,
Idols deserving of all the world's slow clap.

The now is defined by open button downs,
Pushed back hair and pumped up arms.
Jeans are tight, matched with shoes that are brown,
Anything out of place will trigger an alarm.

How can the average hopeless romantic fight,
When wit and wisdom sums up his might?
He sips his wine during the night,
Closing his eyes halfheartedly wishing to see a new light.

He has many reasons to be happy,
Yet he's looking for something that can make him smile.
It may sound really petty,
But for this, he's ready to walk another mile.

We are tired of not dying, of merely existing,
Looking for perceived purpose and minute meaning.
One wonders when one can start living genuinely free,
One hopes to learn how it feels to be.
May 2018 · 112
Do not get excited
Allan Pangilinan May 2018
You know for yourself that this is nothing new,
That this is just an iteration of the cycle you've been to.
Yet it stings no less than the past encounters,
As this imagined reality cemented another universe.
You understand that misfit puzzles will never match,
It is not for you to decide if you are a rare good catch.

A glass half-filled is that, a glass half-filled,
No matter the thirst, don't settle for no less than fulfilled.
This is not being disparaging as this is for you,
For them, for everyone, for that person, too.
Though be warned as sometimes something is good enough,
Yet we miss on it and to search again is tough.

Never bathe in a potentiality that isn't actualized,
Nor in a dream with possibility that will never be realized.
Let us hope that this shall just pass through,
Be like some past things you outgrew.
We frown for a possibility that will never be,
Yet we smile for a stronger you that we now see.
Allan Pangilinan May 2018
There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He is the type, but for things that matter, he can't be fun.
Listens to stories and shares sentiments,
Yet following oneself is totally out of his element.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
When sad, he clings to anyone who shows even the slightest of emotion.
Maybe he thinks he does not deserve the real thing,
As the twisted idea of happiness escapes his whole being.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He creates a world in his mind where endless joy is there to run.
Even it is with someone he had just met,
That is something, from John, we could expect.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He knows, feels, that he will just be shunned.
Which should be okay as such is not out of the ordinary,
But he just feels extra tired and **** weary.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He just wants to be happy but he feels like he is banned.
From his own thoughts and dangerous mind,
He always falls short and is perpetually left behind.
Apr 2018 · 88
April's Wishful Thinking
Allan Pangilinan Apr 2018
Proximity tends to mess with the mind,
It brews a concoction dangerous for fleeting times.
Paints a reality that is improbable to find,
Essence searching for where it rhymes.

For I thought you're past pretty boys,
Though I wasn't built to outwit a superior combination,
Maybe this is just one of fate's ploys,
Natural order just being set in motion.

Nonetheless, the feeling was beyond liberating,
As it proved that I can start doing without caring.
Joy is something I understand is worth aiming,
Kinda makes me akin to what they call 'believing.'

Now we live it as it is, as this is matching hypothesis,
We live to dream another day.
I still hope life is worth having in this crisis,
Together we wait for a tomorrow that will be there to stay.
Apr 2018 · 101
Proximity
Allan Pangilinan Apr 2018
We always look for a chill pill,
For the cravings we can never satiate --
So we could get close and feel
How one's sun can radiate.

Bliss is what it brings,
Enslaved by cheap highs,
Despite knowing that it stings,
It escapes us from our sighs.

Now we puzzle in misfit pieces,
Weaving universes in lost time,
We see the future graced with non-existence,
We see rhythm that will never rhyme.

We bid sorry to another probability,
Give up on a possibility we dare not disturb,
Hoping Time can set us free,
Wishing the free spirit not to remain in curb.
This is dedicated for the leap I hope I would take. I just need some more hope.
Feb 2018 · 101
It was me
Allan Pangilinan Feb 2018
It started a new daydream nonetheless,
Those resting motions welcomed with vibration.
The heat on the back that pressed,
Is a feeling beyond sensation.

Thought the twist was possible,
Yet nope I say so.
It was rational to think it was probable,
No regrets though for putting a go.

Watch me learn I warn,
I hope I don’t get pulled to something nasty,
‘Cause when it’s time to run,
I’ll leap through space and time in ecstasy.
Dec 2017 · 123
Order of Calypso
Allan Pangilinan Dec 2017
You can never be too happy, can you?
Like after finding your way from 1 to 2
Thinking, feeling, knowing,
There's a 3 at the ceiling.

It never stops, the universe.
Cosmic nonsense, in poetic verses.
To which you are a mere subject,
A thing that it can easily eject.

The hands rolled 'that' wise,
What's done will be forever precise.
Etched in fashion that marked,
That none can tear it apart.

Don't be too joyous next time, I say,
Less you wish to see a darker day.
To be quite happy must do fine,
Seek no more and it'll start a rhyme.
Dec 2017 · 108
Ruins
Allan Pangilinan Dec 2017
Often, we learn not to accept,
Rather, how to live with things.
The structures that were left,
Are ruins marking memory of feelings.

Before you, you see what was,
What will never be.
Hoping each day it'll pass,
From pain, one be free.

You wake up and convince yourself,
Drown life with distractions.
Tomorrow, you won't get help,
Letting the autopilot be set in motion.

For whatever its worth,
You survived before.
But just because you've fought,
Absence of sting isn't assured for.
This is just a mere marker now.
Oct 2017 · 192
Delta
Allan Pangilinan Oct 2017
One day, this pillow will have a different name.
My dreams will cast a different face.
Yet for now, I know that this situation will remain the same.
Am just hoping for a faster pace.

I will be able to close my eyes and think of a new ‘you.’
Smell the morning and remember a more joyful view.
But for now, it’s your scent I recall,
And to your maze I fall.

Don’t get me wrong as I’ve done this before,
This isn’t new — no need for your sympathy.
Though I’m certain your thoughts wander other shores,
Not minding nor thinking about me.
Jul 2017 · 150
Attachments
Allan Pangilinan Jul 2017
It's bizarre how you can hear yourself even when you're not speaking,
Amidst the calming breeze of rain and busy rush of the streets.
There are nights when you can choose to color your world and narrate an epic through free hand poetry.
The shape is indefinite but the words flow.
The hues are fading yet they meet halfway.
You throw the why's in your brain even if you know the answers.
Is there a reason for lives that were touched?
"There is," we convince ourselves.
The sense waits.
The song must start anew.
Jul 2017 · 278
70s 12
Allan Pangilinan Jul 2017
Why do we dream of things that will never be?
Why do we pretend to see visions that will never be seen?
Why do we say we won't if we will?
Why do we tear up for spaces we can't fill?

It's how we say we don't feel,
How our peripheral vision roam,
Sad that it'll never be,
Remembered as past vision.

Somebody tell me how this'll be the last,
And I'll promise a life of bliss.
Aid me and save me from this seeming lust,
Just pull me back, I'm begging please.
Allan Pangilinan Jul 2017
Suffice to say that from this, there's no forward.
Guilty I will always be of this void within.
Seeing the joy from you slaps me to what has always been.
Could I forget? Who am I fooling?

So far yet always within arm's length when seen,
"Go, it's alright," is what I tell myself.
Sadness pulls back time and time,
Caress and care is what I will never be able to do.

Sedate me and make me numb,
Glued - I am stuck in every vision.
Someone new will never be,
Curated from my dreams that will always be blue.
Jun 2017 · 313
(Un)apologetic
Allan Pangilinan Jun 2017
Should there be guilt in evolving dreams?
Must we apologize to our younger selves for wanting different things?
The universe isn't how it seemed.
We have seen wider and wider rings.

Our aspirations are changing,
And the thoughts are scary.
To what will we anchor our feelings?
Longing for some assurance and stability?

Yet we can't blame our mind,
Finding new questions to every answers retrieved.
To the Forward we can't hide,
As such is the only thing feasible we can achieve.

The past is a place we can never be,
While tomorrow is a possibility.
It's easier to dream of being 25 when you're 20;
But never 29 when you're 30.

We will always want something different,
Bigger, more, always at the comparative degree.
May these possibilities be met,
And may the soulless be free.
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