3:45 ng umaga
Pero hindi ako makatulog o makahinga
Hindi ko kayang masaksihan na ikay masaya

Yung mga tawa na dati ay sa akin
HAHAHA diba sila ang mga labi na dati kong inaangkin

Wala na, wala na sila
Wala na ang ikaw at ako at ang tayo na salita

3:45 ng umaga
Sana makatulog na ako
Nawala na rin ang antok ko

*Sana ikaw din, mawala sa sistema ko

Ikaw si "Ligaya" pero lungkot ang iyong dala
Ikaw yung nagpapatunay na hindi lahat ng nakangiti masaya
ikaw yung dating nagbibigay sigla
kaso unti untiang nabura.
Yung imahe mo na dating buo
na palitan ng mga linya na sobrang gulo
Di ko tuloy alam kung ikaw si ligaya o si lungkot
sinamahan mo kong umakyat pero iniwan mo pag dating sa tuktok.
Kumapit sa bisyo at doon nalugmok.
napaaway, nag maoy, at doon nasuntok.
Nasuntok ng katotohanan na wala kana
at yung ligaya ni "Ligaya" ay nahanap sa iba
Pero maligaya ako na maligaya kana
kahit yung sarili kong ligayay mawawala na.
sa dinamidami ng ligaya sa tulang to
kabaligtaran ang nadarama ko.
kasi nga ikaw si Ligaya pero lungkot ang dala mo.

070616 #12:27PM #ElNido

MAKATA ang lenggwahe ng pusong umiibig,
MAKATA ang katauhang ikinubli ang malasakit,
MAKATA ang kasarinlang may dalisay na panalangin.

Patungo sa may lalang na may misteryong grasya,
Kanyang isasakatuparan ang mistulang imposibleng eskima --
MAKA-DIYOS ang MAKATA.

Para sa pahalang na pakikitungo
Sa madlang baluti'y maskarang may bahid na kayumanggi --
MAKATAO, siyang daing ng MAKATA.

Sa Perlas ng Silanganang winawagayway ang bandila,
At sa udyok ng romantikong lupaing sinilangan --
MAKABAYAN ang pagpili ng MAKATA.

Heto ako't kumakatok sayong pintuang walang susi,
Pagkat kandado mo'y makasarili sa'king galak na pagbati.
Ikaw ang simbolo ng kabuuan ng pag-ibig na hinaharana,
Habang ako ang pariwarang napuno ng "baka sakali," o Sinta --
MAKA-TAYO ang MAKATAng may puso.

Can we jam, brothers and sisters?

Dare we meet at the impalpable chat room
that exists beyond our third heaven?
Dare we to speak in tongues and timbres,
our skin taut across hollow shells,
our veins strung across cadaverous bodies?

I'll grab my drumsticks if you grab the guitars,
and there's somebody on the bongos
slappin' the skins with zealous fervor--
where my tambourine girls at?

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten our forlorn hero
sitting behind the keyboards--
Tickle me those ivories with pious hands and aching fingers,
shake em down sweet Jerry Lee!

And so we begin--
I lay down the drum beat that bops heads and scatters feet,
and the bassman always on top of things
slaps and slides and skips and sizzles
hot diggity dog!

I hear that sweet guitar scream and moan,
praying for death under hazy lights
and we all coast with eyes rolled back into our skulls
and torpid lips drooped open over slack jaws.

Not a word is said from a human voice,
we speak through hands and feet,
basking in colors eking from every kick drum stomp
and the desperate wail bleeding from amplifiers.

Feedback sings and screams, fighting the silence we taunt
and hold at bay.

Around every corner the colors trail
coursing through our vesselious bodies
propelled along the dizzying venture.
We somehow spot every pothole and take detours,
embarking down backroads and backalleys--

We can turn the wheel,
but don't think for a moment we know where it's going.

And the mirror's have all vanished,
we know not from where we came.

Someone shouts from the discovery
as we exit a phrase to enter serendipity,
toying with destiny, clay in our hands,
stretching out the ****** perennially--
We laugh as the gods try to remind us we are Man.

And the screams and the moans
sensing the ****** is getting close
so there's a crescendo I ramp up the tempo
ahhhhhhhHHHhhhHhHhHhHHHHHhhhETERNITY IS NOW AND WE HOLD THE KEY TO HEAVENS GATES AND TIME STANDS STILL AT HIGH NOON IN THE TOWN'S SQUARE WHERE TRIGGER FINGERS TREMOR AND WE SPEAK TO GOD ON HIS PRIVATE CHANNEL COMING THROUGH WORN SPEAKERS CELESTIAL CREATURES IT WOULD BE SACRILEGE IF WE WEREN'T SUDDENLY SO HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY

So I say again, brothers and sisters,
can we jam?

SO I SAY AGAIN, BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
CAN WE JAM?

SO I SAY AGAIN, BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
CAN WE JAM?

So I say again,
brothers and sisters,

can we jam?

Can you help me find a remedy for this swollen heart?
She says it's just a side effect of all the alcohol.
"If you let me have my way, I swear I'd tear you apart."
She says I'm getting my aching organs mixed up,
and it's the liver that's in need of a detox.
****'s all out of context.
I told her to forget it.

"One of these mornings will be the loudest you'll hear,"
but my head's still ringing from the echo of ten years spent ignoring alarm clocks.
I can see the too-bright light at the end of the tunnel,
but I'm getting off at the next stop,
and I can keep hopping these cars ad infinitum.

"A long time ago, we used to be friends,"
but I've broken half-a-hundred promises since then,
and I'm in no condition to up and replant these seeds of doubt that my family tree dropped nearly three decades ago.

This ain't the song to end it on.
And these aren't the words either of us ever wanted to have to regret not saying,
but why can't you just say what you mean?

"We met one day in wet cement,"
and our swollen hearts have been slowly hardening ever since.

one day the world
will forget our names,
our memories will be
wiped away from the surface of the earth
and the things we used to own
will turn to ashes with us.
then, we'll be buried underground.
we will become one with the earth
and our flesh will linger through
the wildflowers and sprout again above our coffins
and we'll say our last words to the wind.
the temples that were made for us
will turn into an artifact,
a museum of what we were
and what we could have been.
one day, the last star will collapse
and the universe will be inhabitable.
but we will linger around the
dark and black void that we
once called home.