"scriptwriter" poems
The living reality of a metaphor, almost every ounce in-taken,
Every nuance, every pronounce, measured, weighted and weighty,
Fluid or firmament, each encapsulated, prior to release, scaled,
Tabulated, ordered, noted, recorded, and ultimately judg-ed.
Totality of it all, the varied quantities of the ingested nutrients,
even the forecast of the future, if every day was a metaphor for
like today…
DO
I speak of the day's headlines?
Of the quantity and nutrition that passes through my lips?
Or
The surround sound of the surrounding sounds of this day,
the flocks of bandito geese who exist only to torment,
the landscape working crews, with their tools, like a 7::00an wake up buzzing about, for the entire street, going house to house, looking for itinerant grassy knolls of patches of bright green,
overnight sprung up and needy to be
guillotined,
laundry to do, rugs needy for clothesline screaming/beating or merely super fast vacuuming;
they, hawking their skills available for the old and infirm,
or the fatty catty cattle lazy, (somewhere in there is moi);
and the decibels of their machines, the rat-a-tat of their rapido, voluble speech that feeds me poetry by the ounce of their laughter, but more exactly of,
What do I speak, to what do I allude?
Why all and none, everything and specifically nothing,
for the metaphor is meta! (1)
It is life itself, from the quarter teaspoon
to the overflowing bath, it is life at its most incremental,
the moment
of flushing face,
the second
of ah ha! recollection, the,
long term trends
trending,
the flatline of my EKG,
the weighty pronouncement of my talking scale (you've been bad),
IT IS THE EVERYTHING
that is measurable, weighable, isolatable, defined;
it is our existence of our each & every of action and inaction strung together like a necklace and a chain
We are metaphor, reality, is, the script,
which is the product of you.
scriptwriter…/
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 6:17 PM UTC
sobrang hinahangaan Kita dahil napakagaling **** gumawa ng mga istorya,
mga istoryang tila talo na pero sa huli ay naipanalo Mo pa.
sa una'y aping api ang bida
pero di nakakapagtaka na sa huli sila ay naging masaya
dahil pangako Mo na hindi kami mag-iisa.
Hindi kami magiisa dahil Ikaw ay kasama,
kasama sa hirap at ginhawa, sa lungkot at tuwa,
talikuran man kami ng madla Ikaw ay hindi mawawala.
Ikaw ang napako hindi ang Iyong mga pangako
kasalanan naming lahat ay Iyong inako
Iyong pagmamahal ay damang dama saan mang dako.
Daan mang tinatahak ay bako bako
Direksyon mang sinusunod ay liko liko
Walang sapat na rason para kami'y sumuko
Dahil pinaglaban mo kami at hindi isinuko.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
It’s like I can’t keep up anymore,
I can’t keep up with the ones around me,
I can’t keep up with the ones that always see me wrong,
I can’t keep up with the ones that bite then smile,
I can’t keep up with even raising my own self,
In this jungle full of snakes,
Ready to spread venom,
Why are the good always seen as bad?
And the bad showered with praises?
Why is it that trying much isn’t an answer anymore?
Why is it that pain never leaves the heart?
And crying has become an endless saga of life?
Why do the ones we love never love us back?
And the ones that admire us, we can never love?
Why is it that the people we do good to always turn their back on us?
Betray us, leave us in pieces,
And then when we go far from their existence,
They still tend to poke their noses,
On what? Our business again?
Still, I want to raise my head up high,
Like a princess,
Like a regal,
I want to let them know that even when they leave me alone,
Even when they take the back seats and start laughing at my loopholes,
The One Above, The Scriptwriter of every story,
Has promised never to let me fall down alone,
And if falling does occur,
The Magnificent, he has guaranteed
To raise me above all their misdeeds….
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
*the most ancient reason there is.
we do things in order to gain approval
or avoid judgement.
we will wear masks to hide our faces, thoughts, and personalities, to shield that which we think will be judged, in order to gain acceptance.
we will do things, say things, and even be things to gain approval, even if we disapprove of it.
we are the fake at generation, ruled by fear and raised to be rebels.
my mask is a ***** who over estimates herself and doesn't care about others and never gets scared.
But how long can one stay in character, before they become the character...
and aren't they one in the same...
the best lies are based on the most truth.
therefore the masks we wear and the facades we create that earn us the approval and exile us from judgement, are the most believeable lies, which shows that the character, scriptwriter and actor are all the same.
so just how fake are we...?*
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Everyday, we meet
In the same smog of a city’s ignorance.
My right hand stays
Raised - in farewell or salute?
I feel not a little ridiculous
A man of flesh and blood
Poured into a concrete
Shell and painted gold
Stuck in the middle of
A thoroughfare and
Given my own road,
Roundabout and
Peeing spots for dogs and men.
I turned a 100 recently
In potential earthly years
And so, I got a spa treatment
Of poems and posies
From my undead enemies
Everyone had a fable
To share about my
Supposedly wonderful life.
While, I, the scriptwriter
Of many a horror tale,
Continued to play mute witness
To my never-ending death
As I waited to meet you again
In the same smog of a city’s ignorance.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
The cartographer coddled by the satnav
He used to be king of the map
But he's become so reliant on it
Feels He should hand his qualifications back
The photographer produced such sterling work
Unattainable to the average ****
Now his darkroom tricks
Honed over decades
Leaves all cold
who can't do that?
We all reckoned
The scriptwriter a decade back
Pretended empathy with the working man
Total automation was the track
No human error was the plan
I'm ok I'm a creative they wouldn't dare replace me
Besides he laughed
No virtual engine could capture
The eternal verities.
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 8:07 AM UTC