Kailangan ko lang ilabas kasi nakita ko tong picture sa Facebook. Inaamin ko madalas sumasayad sa isip ko to. Sino ba naman ang hindi maiisip to kung marealize mo kung gaano ka kahelpless at powerless na baguhin ang paligid mo. Sino ba naman ang hindi makakaisip na baka may mas magandang lugar para sa ating lahat na kung saan masaya tayo. Yung feeling of guilt kung bakit ako nasa loob ng kotse, naka-aircon tapos may batang kakatok sa bintana mo at siya ay walang makain, tapos pag inabutan mo magsasabi padin ng "Thank you po.", sabay bibili ng sundae sa Mcdonald's. Tangina lang diba, kasi bata lang din sila at gusto nila maenjoy ang buhay. Tapos, magmaneho ka lang sa Quezon ave, may kakatok sa bintana mo humihingi pagkain or limos. Tingin ka sa Quiapo may mga matatandang nanlilimos, tapos, masayang masaya pagka binigyan mo ng pagkain, nakakaputangina. Nung nag Davao kami, yung mga nagbebenta ng perlas dun alam **** isang kahig isang tuka ang buhay nila, isang tingin mo lang alam **** sobrang hirap ng buhay. Nakakagago pala talaga ang pakiramdam ng pribelehiyo no? Kasi andun ka lang para mag lamyerda at gumastos ng madaming pera. Yung feeling na nagiinstagram ako ng walang kakwenta-kwentang bagay tapos may namamatay sa gutom sa ibang lugar, may naaabusong ofw sa middle east, yung mga nasa Mindanao napapagitnaan ng gulo. Yung nakikita **** sales lady sa SM na alam **** todo kayod para kumita ng pera sa Maynila pero tangina hindi nabibigyan ng tamang benepisyo at kontraktwal padin. Ang swerte ko. Ang sarap ng buhay ko. Sa sobrang sarap, napakaunfair na at nakakagago na dahil di ko din masabing ayaw ko ang buhay ko, pero ayaw ko din ang mga nakikita ko. Ang labo no? At bilang isang ordinaryong tao, wala kang magagawa para matulungan sila na maglalast sakanya. Hanggang abot ka lang ng barya kasi di mo pwede isacrifice sarili **** kapakanan para sa iba. Dahil ganun na ang mundo ngayon, sarili ko muna bago iba. Pero masisisi mo ba yung pagiisip na ganun kasi may kanya kanya tayong mga problema na dulot ng pagiging myembro ng society? Duwag tayong lahat. Duwag na tumulong sa abot ng makakaya natin kasi takot tayo na baka tayo naman ang mapunta sa ganung kalagayan kapag binigay natin ang lahat. Tulad ko, pasuicide suicide pa pero duwag akong gawin, hanggang sagi lang sa isip ko, tangina ko eh no? Dahil yung nakakatulong lang talaga yung may tunay na tapang. Katulad ni Mother Teresa ang daming tinulungan at inalagaan, pero ironic dahil nawala ang paniniwala nya sa Diyos dahil sa nakita nya nasobrang hirap na dinadanas ng mga taong inaalagaan nya. Putangina ng Mundo. Bakit ba tayo nandito? Pagtapos nito balik na ko sa normal. Tangina nyo.

Take a step into the Firestorm.
Lyrics/Vocals Skitz AKA Mr.Sandman
Track,recording,production-Jay/Eclectic.Collective.
Lyrics.(Copyright Skitz AKA Mr Sandman)

Spittin' fire-desolation of the Sandman,
blink you'll miss the decimation of your clan man,
musical massacre with an Irish style,
time to stop driveling,your old cold style-

cause I'm riled up,fed up sick of your ****,
sit down or be knocked down,listen to the skitz spit,
flammable fumes,verbs turn to flame,
grammar fallin like a grand piano from a crane,
straight to your brain a flash of white light,
wear a fireproof suit you might catch light,
pay stage crews danger cash cause I'm scorchin',
E.C.-Schizophrenic-Sandman torchin,
a four alarm fire,I cause high premiums,
show respect or you'll be rappin through a medium,
mic's a flamethrower leave you screamin,
think you'll burn the Sandman?,wake up,you're dreamin.

Venue's on my menu,get it insured,
I walk through the flames,immune and immured,
immersed in hip hop, a sun gone nova,
drop the mic kid, just run,it's over.
my tank's full,petrol for adrenaline,
flame and blood like my name's Targaryen
you don't want to see my dragon's fly loose,
spit heat like a turnspit-cook your goose,

Stage is flaming,boy you best ghost,
hit the fire bell,you get burnt to toast,
white phosphorus combined in my mind,
get your goggles if you're goggling,you'll wind up blind,
Armageddon approaches,best make your way,
last stage I blazed you may have heard of-Pompeii,
you're gettin calcinated muy calor!,
a Supervolcano eruptin' on a dancefloor.

(chorus)
Magma,Plasma,they're not even warm,
Air Ripped from Lungs becomes fuel for the Storm,
Melt Icecaps,Globe start to warm,
****** Aircon-I spark a Firestorm.

Time to raise the heat,time to raise the stakes,
you're a lost smokejumper,praying for a firebreak,
trees turn to shrapnel,you're out of breath,
"I am fire,I am Death"

Reverse Mic Fiend rhymes steal the oxygen,
lungs collapse as I spin the storm again,
a terrible beauty,and an awesome blessing,
3rd degree burns,apply cool dressings
thats if you're lucky when I spit the gift,
last MC challenged me burnt to a crisp,
by words,deeds,heat bleeds stage smokin-I'm just gettin warm
thoughts spark the flames in a forest I'm a firestorm
fuel air bomb combined with Tsar Bomba,
Mount Doom blowing about to get Sundered,
hate is stokin' me,fuel to the forge,
16kept the heat banked long enough it's time to gorge,
Smaug heats up-flames spew forth,
you're guy fawkes on a pyre of fireworks.

Wondering,and blundering it's time to burn,
time to get roasted,you fool's won't learn,
that I'm hotter than a sunflare,beyond compare,
you're richard pryor tryin to smoke michael jacksons hair
don't dare me to flare into action,
don't care Keisha fusion core reaction,
fukushima and cherbobyl are my barbeques,
couldn't help yourself, you had to light my fuse,
I refuse to cool down-I'm scorchin',
Firestormtrooper lit,time for torchin'
Firewalk-comparison? Huh,a cool breeze,
flatten the building like Tunguska's tree's,
eyes hotter than Cyclops,you're weak at the knees.
supernova 200 billion degree's

(chorus)
Magma,Plasma,they're not even warm,
Air Ripped from Lungs becomes fuel for the Storm,
Melt Icecaps,Globe start to warm,
****** Aircon-I spark a Firestorm.

Abalang-abala ka sa pakikipag-usap sa iyong kustomer at hindi mo na namalayang tumatakbo ang oras. Ang nasa isip mo lamang nang mga oras na iyon ay matapos mo ang iyong trabaho nang walang palya at walang ano mang iisipin pa. Nang iyong tanggalin ang headset ay doon mo lamang napansing ikaw na lamang pala ang nag-iisang ahente sa ikatlong palapag ng opisinang iyong pinapasukan sa isang call center.

Tanging ang liwanag na lamang sa iyong station ang tanglaw nang mga oras na iyon. Kaya naman ay sinipat mo ang orasan sa iyong wrist watch at napagtantong isang oras na lamang at sarado na rin ang buong building at kailangan mo ng umuwi.

Inayos mo na ang iyong mga gamit at siniguradong na-i-document mo nang maayos ang mga calls recordings mo. Nag-inat-inat ka pa muna bago mo pinatay ang monitor at CPU ng iyong kompyuter. Hinintay mo munang naka-shut down na ito bago ka tumayo. Nang tuluyan na nga itong namatay ay agad **** binitbit ang iyong back pack. Nang tatalikod ka na ay isang malamig na simoy ng hangin ang nanuot sa iyong balat.

Sa iyong pagkakaalam ay sarado naman ang mga bintana sa opisinang iyon at sigurado kang pinapatay na rin ang aircon kapag isang tao o walang tao nang naiiwan roon. Ngunit, kakaibang lamig ang iyong naramdaman. Hindi lang iyon dahil isa, dalawa, at talong beses kang nakarinig na may nagtitipa sa keyboard.

Halos lumabas na ang iyong mata sa takot pero nanatili ka pa ring matapang. Huminga ka muna nang malalim at agad nilingon ang kanina pang nagtitipang bagay sa iyong likuran. At doon ay lalo kang nanginig nang makita ng iyong dalawang mata ang biglang pagliwanag ng monitor at sunod-sunod na pagtitipa ng wala namang kamay na mga letra sa keyboard.

Nang mag-flash sa screen ang mga letra ay doon ka na nagtatakbo palabas dahil nakasulat doon ang mga katagang TYPING KEYBOARD  na may kasamang pigura ng duguang bungo.

I lost my mother

No, not to death
I lost my mother to technology
To social media
To that ******* Facebook
I lost her to the bright rectangular shard of glass that was her phone

There she could reconnect with her friends
See what they were doing
Reunite with long lost childhood buddies
And see cute videos of dogs and babies

I used to love going on dates with my mom
Just the two of us
Most would say we were like sisters
We shared clothes and stories
And life lessons in between
Sips of coffee and slices of cakes
And walks in malls just because we wanted aircon

But now when I'm sitting across her at the table
Her eyes fail to meet mine
If they do all she'd say was wait, I'm replying
Then her eyes would fall back to the screen of her phone
Never-ending conversations became conversations that never even started
Loud chatter above food became silence so loud I could hear myself chew
Laughter and smiles were all the same except they were done looking down, facing a phone

And now I would rather dine alone
Than dine infront of someone glued to their phone
And that says a lot coming from someone with social anxiety and fear of being alone
Because if instead of talking to me your talking to your phone
I really would rather just be alone
I promise you it's not that different

Social media was designed to make us all connected
Countries apart, continents in between
We could talk and call like we were together at that very moment
But now the people were beside
The people we can touch and feel
The people with us physically
We forget to talk to, we ignore
We become disconnected with
Yes, you are retying old ties with your old friends who are miles away
I get that
And I am more than happy for you
That you and your highscool friends talk again
But what's the use of making new ties if you don't keep the ones you have now

I lost my mother to technology
I don't know if it's too late
I know technology won't stop advancing any time soon or any time in the future for that matter
But I have faith
I know beneath my mothers eyes glued to the screen
are the same eyes as the ones that first laid their eyes on me
Who looked at me ever so lovingly,
Like the most precious gift in the world

I lost my mother to technology
And I hope it's not too late to find her again

Through the years, it took us
consistent feeling, never altering
content with complacent idling
until the night, a surprise came
and knocked us on the head
off our perches of self assurance.

The night when we stepped out of ruts
and cuddled close together
like never before, eye to eye
now, shivering and turning inward
our single sheet not enough
our embrace fiery, out the cold.

Roses and jasmines. All vowels extended until you barely make the words out,
approaching, then rushing and receding past, early mornings. The flower boy;
Wake up calls, admonishments, family fights and announcements, old stories,
dire oaths, colourful threats, affected love, who, this loud mouth? Lady next door;
Squirrels that shriek like birds, competing for turns to puncture the solemn silence;
Paperboys and milkmen, school vans and church bells, pressure cooker whistles,
whish of reed broom on jagged floors wet with cleaning water, motor noise, aircon:
Two years: that vanished like a dancing drop on a hot pan: beauty hiding the pain
Ending like the slowly turning reflection of the halting fan on my breakfast bowl:
Ja..asmi...ines and ro..oses, squirrel shrieks, now familiar story of the family next
door, wash whish, silence: who is that faint spectacled figure on the cabinet glass?

Waste paper & ink
via corporate endeavors—
no doubt noble.
Vicariously sit still
or swivel around—
Oh, corporate freedom!
The aircon's never felt this
cold,
the coffee never this
expensive (& free, but
a mirage is a mirage.)
the elevator never this
wild & brimming with life.

Braindead oblivion
is a natural high.

Outside my unseeing windows
Stringed lamp posts
Pierce the deepest night.

Lights still dance
Along the streets,
Reflected in silent pools,
Splashed by gentle roars
Of pavement rubber
Racing the idled road.

Beneath my candid room
The aircon units gargle
Their cold nocturne
Of sleep and thought.

The sidewalk stays mindful --
Witness to murmured kegs
And murdered heels,
Its quiescence reverberates
The gentle parley
Of blaring merchant loons.

The boulevard refuses
To choke in darkness.

My mind will wait until
The clamour of morning
Shatters this weighted gloom.

lights and smoke
covering the dance floor
showing a glimpse of
smiles and dancy feet

street lights and aircon
burning in my tired eyes
no ****** expression
burning inside

when the lips
that wouldn't let me go
suddenly can't speak a word
i no longer wish to be in this car

i wish to be in front of it

THE WORLD is an office asking for your sweat. Before lunch. Officeboy turns off the aircon. Stuck in line in front of the teller. Number is empty, on bank account.

This world is a city asking for your blood. An old friend who grew into someone who was getting less and less understandable. A monster that feeds on its own body parts.

The baroque grandeur of
Warm seas on velvety spring evenings
Is in stark contrast to the ache
In my hands from the aircon being
Just too ******* cold.

And

Who do these stars think they are?
This heavenly phosphorescence
Placed so precisely on the lapel of
The night sky.
A supernova pocket square?

And

What is the story with this ***?
Wheedling it’s way down my throat
To try and melt the tremors in
The pit of my belly.
It’s ****** well working.

They say we'd burn equal to what we've burnt
In 9 circles of hell
Of being non-baptized to treachery
They say we'll suffer (from their greatest imagination)

But did the omniscient God know this will happen to me
But can the omnipotent God control and not be punishable
For they said, He is the most powerful in the entire

"Fear not Hell, for if it exists, you shall find yourself in a good company."
Many men will suffer in hell for not believing in such existence
From ancient walkers to modern tribes believing other gods
Good non-believers who have helped more than the believers
The scientists and philosophers who answered and invented good
(What if they invent aircon, instead)

And you know, the baddest people will burn with us
There may be those who are wicked or hold good ideals
And the devil who punishes among us will understand
Together we all understand the pain from the heaven
Understanding each other, why do we have to suffer for eternity
When they were still alive, they were able to change
Humans can change, metanoia
Why not in Hell? For the punishments too great to bear
Shall make sufferers change and realize they have done wrong

This Hell is complicated, what about in Heaven?
Heaven, so easy to understand because it offers only eternal bliss
Unlike Hell where you can only imagine fear
Just because of the fear people make
Didn't they know, the pope and people got it in 14th century
From the works of Dante Alighieri
Increasing the baptized population because of fear

Of Hell where we sinners will burn
So complicated
So fairy tale

I shall end it without a fear

The only good place to sit at mcdonalds was under the aircon
I got extra ice in my drink before I knew
it's warm outside but freezing inside
lucky I grabbed my jumper
my hands are freezing and i'm alone
every day is a bit like this
different place, different air and different food
but my hands are always freezing
and i'm always alone.

Made In China
Your electrical items stop working one by one
First the kettle stops boiling even tho the red light’s on
Then your microwave stops heating tho it turns round
It gets fixed and works for a week then is totally dead
As for your TV it turns on but has a single line across it
The VHS video player ate the **** tape and jammed
Your radio gets nothing but static on all channels
The mobile phone charges but dies after 3 minutes
The other charger that lights up but doesn’t charge
Red LOS modem light means no connection
Along with a new fan with a burnt out motor
Your car radio eats tapes ejects CDs and smokes
The aircon is clunky and spreads a virus killing us
All items made in Red China sub standard parts junk
Unskilled low paid slave labour don’t give a ****
Don’t buy anything made in Red China its crap

master motor bearing and the tap tap tap tap tap

end of century summer sweats the tablecloth mixed iridescent spill mixed rancid cream mixed spilt milk mixed mother’s breast

entry the market aisles the aircon slick with dripping fats processed flesh working meats gotcha thumb! gotcha thumb!

plasticide yanks the chain blights the debt fifty-five to the triumph ever closer

above the clatter you let it happen you take out your wallet you scan your loyalty card you take two plastic bags a great machine turns grinding everything to dust above the clatter individual sensations collapse into one cacophony one cluttered ******* oceanic spectre of death

we’ve been here before the flat words the repetition the living death the sickness desire

how far stretch the pennies down

myself myself myself myself myself myself my

in an ice-age we all searched for warmth.
cold nipping at our chest to reach what is underneath we trooped on-to warmer lands,
to find the cure to what seemed to harm us the most.

and in loneliness i searched for companionship.
sadness crept up my shoulders and shoveled under the layers of skin of my wrist to find the pulse,
but i kept searching blindly for someone i could call dear to me.

yet even when warmth is found on a tropical island near the sea, sun beating down on us hard
do we not confine ourselves to buildings filled with cold
so as to relive the troop, relive the search
to desperately find our own little struggle in aircon bills
and find faux hope in the blankets they sell 20% off?

and yet even when a friend is found
do i not still convince myself they are lying to me
and allow sadness to enter once more,
finding faults quicker than endearing traits;
so as to pity myself, boo-hoo, your so called love has betrayed you
and now you must search again for another

Nothing beats this heat
As am feeling uneasy in my seat
I move closer to the window
And glimpse at an unusual shadow
Limping and searching
As if may have lost something
Teary eyes glanced at me
A beggar he didn't choose to be
Lost his days hardwork
Stood crying facing the wall
I got off the bus as it was yet to leave
Fetched my purse for money to give
As I approached the poor guy
He broke into tears to cry,
I heard his begging tears for food
And passing people laughed, saying his no good
I asked him how much he had lost
With unclear voice he said, just my food cost
I handed him a $10 note with a smile
He looked happy after a while
I came back to my bus seat
And adjusted the aircon slide to beat the heat
The journey started with a good thought
Now thinking, if it was food he bought...

©sim

In a green landscape,

cars are flashing around me ---


It's aircon-silent.

It's eerily quiet.
No breathing, no distant engines,
Not even the drone of the aircon.

Nothing.

Nothing but the slow strumming of my guitar.

Its quiet now.

Can't wait to see how much more it can get at 2am.

I feel like crawling out of my skin
in this unseasonably warm weather
summer night hazes in mid-October
t-shirts and aircon
and everything else that feels wrong
for where we should be
and how far this year’s gone

learn how he likes his coffee;
moka espresso black with a single sugar,
a cappuccino or a flat white if he’s out
(he knows the only espresso better than his is his nonno’s)
learn how to make it, the brand of espresso he uses, how much he puts in, the flick of his wrist when he puts the sugar in.
The first sip, the gentle smile that he shares with the world.
contento.

learn his family. his mother is overprotective and his father likes to put his foot in his mouth. it’s a trait in him you learn to love, and love the fact he passed it to his son.
learn that he has a troubled past, the love child of two divorces, he feels like the symbol of heartbreak. assure him that he is so much more than what happened before he was born.

learn his brothers. learn the heartache that comes with breakups when drugs and two little angels get involved. love those two girls with all your heart. they need a nurturing force in their life and it breaks my heart but I can’t be that anymore.
the older one wants to be taught. information and knowledge excites her, teach her about the sky and the moon. spend the time teaching her. she may annoy you temporarily but her hugs are like gold.
the younger one loves games, and stealing half of your breakfast even when she swore she wasn’t hungry. get her to trust you and shell sprint to you every time she sees you. I’d give anything to see her again.

learn Sunday lunches. you’ll never get him to miss one, but take this as a sign of devotion to his family, and for what he loves most. go with him to them, but ALWAYS say hello to nonna or so help you god. remember that pasta is an entree in this culture. his uncle will make a crude joke, his cousins will be the most lovely girls you’ll ever meet. his aunt will sometimes be racist but don’t worry, he will set her straight.

learn his culture. pasta is a given, but so is the word ’no’. he will spend a lot of time cooped up in his room, encourage him to spend more time outside. he secretly loves the sunshine, as long as he has enough deodorant on. attempt the language. language is a big passion of his. Italian is beautiful, treat it with respect

he will love walks if they’re with you. find a pretty view and he will insist you’re prettier. his frequent compliments, he means every one of them. don’t let them lose meaning. all are genuine. say thank you.

twirl around the kitchen when you make late night tea and never ever forget to drink it.

let him game for as long as he wants. he will crawl into bed with you when he’s done and he’ll appreciate the time for himself. don’t forget that he loves you.

lay on his bare chest. he loves skin to skin. aircon on, he loves being cold then curling up under covers.

spoon him from time to time. protect him. hold him tight. hands through his hair.

he loves back scratches when he hugs you. he’ll ask for it if you forget, but ******* don’t. you remembering will put him at ease

find ways for him to express his anger. he doesn’t know how to so it sits in his chest and broods. *** helps. throwing things at the wall helps.

he will have meltdowns. he puts so much on his plate at once, and he can handle it, but he needs his downtime. encourage him to stop studying, to read or game or workout, something that isn’t for anybody else but him. hug him, tell him everything will still workout if he takes half an hour to cool off.

he loves finding new music. let him play it in the car when you drive.

keep hand sanitiser in your purse. he hates sticky hands.

he loves waffles. do with that what you will.  

surprise him with tea that you find interesting. he’ll love the thought.

intricate gifts mean a lot to him, but it's not hard to remind him of your love. leave notes in his room, long, short, post it notes. write him poetry. call him with good news. call him with bad news. call him in the bath. call him to tell him you love him.

cherish him.

never let a day go by without telling him you love him.

dont let him go like I did. don’t let your selfish desires **** his soul. love him with all your heart. never take him for granted. never take his quietness for anger. never let him go to sleep feeling unloved. stay up with him when hes upset. dress up for him. surprise him with visits but call when youre close by, just incase. never let him out of your grasp. never ever hurt him. he cant dance but tell him to be free with you. sing in the car with him. compliment his singing, its ******* impressive. if he writes you a song memories the words and sing it in the car when youre sad. I still do.

love him with everything you have.

he deserves the world.

give it to him.

BY CRAIG J. BURT & JIMMY BOOM SEMTEX 5/22/20

90 degrees today
Crazy mood & happy
Ready to test out my brand new Audi
Down this bumpy road

The best time's right now
German made quality car
Aircon & tunes are on
You smile & we are complete.

That beggar -
One leg long, one leg a stump,
What’s on his mind?

Her Highness the Queen
Is *******
In a toilet at Buckingham Palace

Summer night -
There’s joy also
In aircon and loneliness

My teeth, I smoke
Are they white?
Color of tea leaves

The old man
Sweeping the streets
Bent like the letter r

He cried once,
The boy, car screeching,
Then silence

My blue suit
Splattered with the droppings
Of a city pigeon

Hanging down
My *****
Like rice bags

I know a young woman named Lauren
Who seems to be wearing a sporran
Oh no she's not
It's a bottle that's hot
Its offsetting the artic aircon

A very old man
Huffed and puffed and wheezed his way to a computer in the library today
Thank god there was aircon

I’m so tired of looking at Instagram
I can’t imagine having to huff and puff and wheeze up 6 flights when I’m walking with a cane

I once took Xanax and made sand angels on the beach for hours
There’s so much space on the beach

I bet it was easier to be Paul Varjak in the 60s
They still had stairs,
But otherwise, all you looked at were the clouds and your typewriter.