Hello, and Hell, PM, this is 2017,
Your medieval view is our scene,
It's the future for the young, their stage,
Do you want them all to live in the Stone Age?
It's called Liberal surreality, no less,
When's the next election? Guess!
Even poor people can vote one day,
A little humility goes a long way.....

There was no clock; no watch,
No time as they stood together,
As if time decides to take a break.

The moon was high,
On the dark black sky,
As if the night was the actuall setting for earth time.

Her heart flutters,
Her knees trembles,
As he said "I want to protect you and your fading smile."


-HIY

-------------------Panginoon,,ano po kaya

---ngayong bagong umaga

-------kakaharapin kong tadhana

---------gitna po ba?kanan?o kaliwa?

ganun pa man,,susundan ko ang tamang daan
sa ESPESYAL na ARAW at sa buong maghapon
nais ko lang po ngayon MAGPASALAMAT !
sa INYO AMA,,,sa biyaya nyo pong AGIMAT.


nang dahil sa isang
katahimikan,,nabuo
ko ang isang kasabihan
walang mga paa na makakahakbang nang hindi muna  _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
*mag-uunahan

I was staring at the wall in choir today,
and I realized that people are like orchestra’s.
You can’t know someone completely
by simply listening to them once.
You have to listen a thousand times,
pick out every instrument individually.
And once you do that,
you have to memorize every single cue, note,
and crescendo.
I want to know what his orchestra sounds like.
I want to hear the cello, the clarinet, and the violin
floating along in clippets.
The sound of brass, string, and percussion
all combining in perfect harmony.
The problem is, how can I listen to an orchestra,
when I am too scared to enter the theater?

1: 38 am, coming home from the bar
where are my ****** keys?.....every single time
2: 17 am, ughhhhhh
throw-up in the front door, every single time
2: 39 am, knocks out...... z z z z z
9: 37 am, late for work, every single time
10:05 am, barely made in time
still gonna get yelled at, every single time
5: 33 pm, getting ready to leave
lost my keys how the **** I'm gonna start the car, every single time
6: 40 pm, get home, eat a cup of ramen
getting ready to leave, every single time
7: 47 pm, reach the bar and find the lonely **** girl
buy her a drink, spent more $50 dollars, ****, every single time
12: 42 am, hopefully I don't **** anyone today
just make sure I'm driving real slow, every single time
1:38 am, coming home from the bar...............................
Every Single Time...

At 11:59 pm
You spilled your secrets
And told me you loved her
At 12:00 am, I sat in silence and braced myself
For the familiar wave of despair to hit
But it didn't.
I filled the room with a sigh of releif
But then I asked myself
Will I still be okay at 4 am?

angry men who do not know I do not have a dollar or a cig to spare. Ugly irrefutable contagion-handed howlers. Angry mischievous heathens that pantomime on 6:00a.m. sidewalk, Wicker Park gallow stop-sign, choreographed gutter-punk drunk walk. And of all he wants and could ever want splits down his gooey membrane brain in the outline of a noun shaped fragment of a clause, "Couldja spare 80¢ for the train," but of course I don't spare on the ellipsis or the period. Semi-colons I won't! My rubber-bottomed leather boots lash out, heavy scraping sounds trail this mirrored shadow half an angle behind me.

*****!! Blonde framed sunglasses from American Apparel, a gift from my sister in a folded Ray-Ban case is scattered on last nights bedroom floor, my girlfriend has certainly not noticed, the gloom-coated morning sun spray has not noticed; but I have unzipped a fissure in the ocular lens. My heart skips a beat. Her bedroom might as well have swallowed them whole. Now the house can halt and have the shade, swaying in Spring air in 10:22a.m. shadows. The aviator himself Howard Hughes would strike me with his 488 aircraft. Edwin Starr in his invincible sinister calypso of War would turn me round. I was sturdy as a rock until I began to forget my forgottens. These unknown unknowns I knew I needed. I'm over a quarter-century on to noon going nowhere- and quite blindly.

But then, still she could stand upright and find me. Her neck crooked, looking onward through the East, the gristly roots of rhubarb buried in her searching fingernails. She's threaded worse, and of course if I could just tell her- this is the kind of nursing which requires acute temperament and flexibility. I am thus on a journey to strike nonsense and fear from the idiotic vocabulary that put this nonsense in my head. Split through me like a butter knife into my apotropaic. Perhaps tar water could cure my ails. If not, certainly a sliver of vanilla would set me straight. Or if could just rain rain rain all day, then I'd make do without, but she is at school. My pistons are racked and nervous, and I'm not going anywhere but my rucksack stoop. I am camped in midwestern Spring soup. Fog, rain, and shade. The nightmare of day.

12.00pm--
now she was floating
in thin air.
she couldn‘t see herself
because she was not
even there.

13.00pm--
she barely heard
the police siren in the
far distance.
she could feel her ghost
slowly separating from
her bleeding body.

14.00pm--
all she felt were hands,
number of hands touching her,
all over her body, examining
her like she was a science project.
she didn't like it.
but soon she was going to be with
him, and that's what calmed her.

15.00pm--
finally, she was finally gone.
she didn't exist anymore.
all she was now,
was a spirit, while
her lifeless body was in
an old coffin.

16.00pm--
before she went and saw him,
she wanted to know how her
mom was holding up.
she certainly didn't expect this,
her only daughter to be dead.
nobody did.

17.00pm--
she saw him.
just a glimpse of him,
but still.
he was here, with her.
finally, they were together,
where they truly belonged.

18.00pm--
she was now in london.
she left the rainy and dull
germany and went here.
she was just a ghost,
she could go anywhere
she wanted.
after a long tine, she was
happy,
whatever that meant, now.

19.00pm--
she hasn't seen him.
she was exploring the world,
but she could sense something
was missing.
it was him.
and she would do anything
in her power to find him.
after all, she killed herself for him.

20.00pm--
he still wasn't found.
she didn't even know where she was,
heaven or hell?
it didn't feel like any of those.

21.00pm--
she was torn.
this wasn't heaven.
nor it was hell either.
it felt like something,
bittersweet.

22.00pm--
she went by her house.
she shouldn't have.
she saw her mom,
crying her eyes out on the
dinning room table.
she felt quilty, for once.
and she kept watching as
her mom screamed and cursed
at the world for her daughter‘s death.

23.00pm--
it wasn't in her nature,
but she gave up.
she shouldn't have,
but she was worn out.
her death, her dying,
was a mistake.
but she realized it a little too late,
and now it was impossible to
turn back time.