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deadwood Jul 2018
Heto na naman,
Panahon ng tag-ulan,
Sakit sa ulo't katawan,
Damdamin at karamdaman.
Basang puno't halaman,
Basang kumot na pinunasan,
Pumapatak na naman,
Ang pag-ibig at tubig-ulan.

Heto na naman,
Sipon ko'y balik-balikan,
Luha ko'y 'di mapigilan;
Simula na ng buwan,
Na masakit ang ulo't isipan,
Masakit ang puso't lalamunan,
Pagkat ako'y iyong iniwan,
Sa gitna ng ulan.
Flu season na. Forgetting I Love U kumbaga.
Tuffy Mutombo Jul 2018
Pride dug a hole in their relationship
Deeper and deeper they dug
Silence was the casket they fell in
No echos of love
Endorsing anger as their new form of emotion
Blaming each other like old fools
Manipulated souls
Feeling destroyed
as pride became their voice of reason
Leaving no choice
Obeying it as they both chose to be (right) no love (left)
Promises ignored
Both robbed of happiness
Pride introduced them to emptiness
Both stressed and depressed
Seeking validation for their emotions
Turning to negativity to find satisfaction
The devil between them
Comfortably cuddling with their souls
Creating a divided union lacking a destination
pride left them Lost with no direction
Pride destroyed their beautiful connection
It destroyed their promises and hopes for a bright future
Suffering to see the sunlight while living in darkness
Red eye
Feelin lean up
Ready to sleep
There's a 1000
Things on my mind
Blockin my dreams
Im tryin to smoke
More to keep up
And get me some rest
But responsibility
piles
Up till it sits on
Your chest
I dont know about these lot
But im looking for steps
I aint workin for peanuts
So im lookin ahead
On my back
You see deepcuts
Dagger entrenched
But im a soldier
Keep breathin
And be at your best
See mana been under
Siege while peaking and
There's times i feel
Beat up
By the deeds and the depth
Things that should
Never been done
Start moving ahead
While you're just trying
To keep up
Each reason and check
Feeling like youre in the
Deep end
But your feet are on deck
Is a magical feeling
Till youre cheated instead
And everything youre
Doing is to be in a place
Where you can be
Yourself
But you're losing your
Head.
Maavi Raja Jul 2018
I feel like I’m falling through a downwards spiral, this feeling has always been contagious and viral, now I’m infected. Stuck in a never ending cycle, continuously repeating, no hopes of a death and a revival. There’s no escape. There’s no exit.  Is this a mistake? Why does it feel like my silhouette has been reshaped? I’m losing my identity in this vortex, a never ending debate like the senate. It’s painful to my cerebral cortex, my brain cannot comprehend the portents. I see clouds drifting by, this dimension still as blue. Like paint across the skies, birds in twisting flights, my resisting eyes lifting lights as they shutter in sight. A powerful camera recording mesmeric views, this is a gift in life. But the monotony. The same routine is on top of me. I’m bored of being stuck without finding an anomaly, in this world, I seek no apology or rejuvenation for the economy. My ideals of wealth relate to modesty, and honestly in honesty I dislike materialism and novelties. I want for my progeny, the best life I can give them that rises from the atrocities. I dream the same dreams,
I’ve seen the same things, acted out the same scenes. Imagine falling asleep, waking to regret that there’s nothing left to see. Nothing left to be. Nothing left for me. Imagine a reality where dreams remain just dreams, an unreachable step from all you have achieved. All you have believed. A manifestation of your belief but reality deceived. We’ve been deceived. My heart is hopeful, my heart is also broken. Yet with the pieces left, I still lived in the moments still hoping that the dreams I’ve seen are inter-woven, into my soul that’s awoken, dreams as vast and open as the ocean. If I still have the strength to acknowledge this notion, should we not act on emotion and make a new reality from these words that were spoken?!
storm siren Jul 2018
I was the crashing waves,
I was the rip tide,
I was the storm--
The ebb and flow only ever tamed
By the moonlight in his eyes.

But you

You were predictable,
The way you moved so lyrical.
You were both the tree sprout,
And the atomic bomb
That ripped its' roots out.

I was the crash of water into flesh.
I could heal, I could bruise;
Either way, the feeling was always fresh.
There is no soul I won't one day possess,
There is no dream I can't hinder the progress.
Toy with me,
And the oxygen in your lungs will be suppressed,
But, hell, nevertheless...

You are land,
You are plants.
You hold still
Your instability.
But in this/ your insanity
You have no deniability.
You did this to me,
You must finally
Hold some accountability.

Tectonic plates shift
And tear
They rip
Year after year.

What comes from the sea
Can always return to the sea.

The end of you,
The end of me.

My waters will swallow you whole.
I am an ocean, and you are a tree. In that, you'll get torn down, shredded into newspaper. I'll consume all that was left of humanity. Eh. Good deal.
Mary Velarde Jun 2018
I sometimes look back at 6th grade classroom settings
and i wonder about the times
i would raise my hand low enough
to be seen,
but high enough to be acknowledged
that i tried.

I reminisce about the times
when the words could’ve easily
catapulted out of my mouth
but there had always been bright orange road cones
placed on my tongue
with a permit;
my signature on them forged by
the things in my head that cause me to tremble
when i ask for directions without practice,
if i raise my hand without practice,
walk around without practice,
do some-*******-thing on my own without practice,
practice, practice, p-pr-practice, don’t stutter,
practice, perfect.
I sometimes fold my paper in half
because i know what its like
to take up too much space.
Turbulence always equals
plane crash.
Chances, to me, were always either just one, or only ever finite.


But he’s got that infectious laugh,
and he held my hand
the whole cab ride back home
until they stopped shaking.
When he wraps his arms around me,
I begin to understand that vacant parking lots
never stay empty for long and sometimes ringing car alarms
are better than the silence I pretend to love.

And I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get how people could be so courageous.
Anxiety has a weird way of
making the process of falling the scariest
thing of all instead of the actual landing.
But those brown eyes had reminded me that
love lullabies our troubles to sleep.
Love turns the quiet into a symphony
of voices of all the people
whose heart you keep in your palms.
Love turns the trembling into a warm embrace.
Love never had to be a home.
it was a resting place
even for the restless.
This piece is meant to be read out loud.
NeroameeAlucard May 2018
I'm not one for recreating my mistakes repeating yourself is for the birds like  hitchcock or however that old saying goes
To show that maybe this can be done right
This time, and as i plotted this rhyme out
Like Dr. Doom in comic books i grew shook like Havoc on that classic queensbridge beat
As i sat and thought, what could this mean?
Has that cloud of cynicism left and overpowered my lyricism I'm not much of a wordsmith to begin with but sxxt if this is what it takes to make what could've been great
Then around the corner I'll bend if it means we can try again...
A return to form i presume...
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