Tag Archives: win

klutz

clumsy

i’m so clumsy

i’m so full of

gasoline, and

stupider still as

i let you in

i let you win

and i let the

phosphate feel

like loving

when you sing

when you sting

i found it too

fascinating

one more strike

before you begin

and you’re clumsy

oh, so clumsy

you’re so full of

broken things

and when i burned

i never knew

that i’d also become

a part of them.

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Keep It Going, We’re Nearly Out

Least I’ve been looking
Real-faced on my side
Still don’t know how
To be all in the mind
All in my mind
It’s what you would want…

~*~

You’re bringing me down

But enough is enough

I’ve got some good rounds

Now I’ll call out your bluff

.

Spit a tooth and some lungs

Minutes before it’s all over

Say they call me high-strung

But I always blow my cover

.

Just to win their way to lose

Just to dance around the noose

Just to decorate another bruise

And leave the coroners confused

.

I’ll bring myself down now

It’s a game of its own entirely

You’ve had your sadistic fun, now

It’s time for that bland apology

.

Because it’s just only fair for us

To keep our busted bones locked

When it’s all over and overdone

There’d be no space left for a gun.

~*~

Looking real spaced in my eyes
I don’t know how to be
Here all the time
You know that I was
I was ready to be alone…

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lamag-lamag (the chase)

habo ko na.

masakiton magparalamag

saimo—an sapatos ko

ralabot asin raraot na

an kaherak na bitis ko puros

na sana lugad, dawa an

baga ko nagkukurulog

asin magabaton nang

marhay, tapos habo mo

man sana akong tawanan

ning hinangos pag ika

nadakop ko na tulos

.

habo ko na.

napapagal na akong marhay

an sakuyang mapapasaon na

tulang, dikit na sana mababari na

gabos—ta paghuna ko baga

pangiturogan sana ini, pero tano ta

nakamuklat pa an sakuyang mga mata?

dawa anong gibuhon ko, ika man

sana an pirming manggagana

sa kahaluyan kong pagparadalagan

nalingawan ko na kung tano ta ika hinahanap

siring ta ika mayo man sakong

maitataong kamurawayan.

i don’t want this anymore.

it’s so difficult to chase

after you—my shoes are

full of holes and damaged,

my poor feet riddled with

wounds, even my chest aches

and is weighed down heavily

and yet you refuse to allow me

some breaths, when i finally

manage to quickly catch you

.

i don’t want this anymore.

i’m getting severely exhausted

my fragile bones are close to

fracturing completely—i thought

that this was just a dream, but then

why are my eyes still wide open?

no matter what i do, you will always

end up winning, and i’ve been running

for so long that i’ve already forgotten

why i’m searching for you

when you will provide me no triumph.

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Baptism By Fire

Blink if you hear our signal
Our hands drip red with blood from clapping
When you hear the command
The sparrow ate our bread trails
Go east along this shadowed mountainside
If you wanna stay alive…

~*~

You stuck to the guns that grew behind your open back

I let you confuse me for a while, until you beat me black

But I still left all the pain between the spaces in my teeth

Picking barbed wire from my knuckles, I can’t even bleed

.

So now the party favour’s over, the running joke is getting old

I couldn’t even laugh at myself, you thought you had me so sold

But contempt is double-sided, their crude fence has collapsed

You’re nothing more than a brackish lie, a fast-forward relapse

.

But you stuck to the blunt razors you forged under your callused skin

When the devil beckoned you back, confident that you would finally win

But when I left my lacerations in the places you and the crowd could see

That was only for show and tell and the next one up in line is you, not me.

~*~

Well, you had pinched my arm to find light
And know that if this is real
I know how the emotion
Now I can’t sense when or if I get out
And I’m still wayside with myself…

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Elizabeth and the Zealot

His embittered smile proclaims of an innocently senile man, but his rancid breath reeks of irreparable psychological damage.

Outside, a group of children playing tag in the playground across the street, clambering across loose gravel and joyously shrieking as outstretched hands willingly grab for their shoulders, caught unaware and simply caught.

Inside his shirt, the old crucifix his long-deceased mother gave him on the brink of her deathbed, clasp half-broken and several priceless encrusted jewels missing; a toothless grin, unfaithful gaps. The tiny metal weighs heavily against his unwashed chest, the unpleasant sensation almost burning a hole through his heart. Sometimes, he mutters a memorised creed out of reflex, though no one believes in it anymore. Perhaps not even God Himself. But him?

Mindless gazes. The chipped, mouldy statue of a weeping wooden saint in one dark nook of the living room, rotting food and dusty candles its ever-resilient offering. The mirror, barely reflective, smudged with soot and cobwebs and his tuberculosis-infected saliva. The closed window beside him like a sleepy eye, tiringly wary as it occasionally betrays a resounding laugh or a glimpse of excitedly-billowing hair. He forgets so many things nowadays, but he always remembers. The children. He must watch the children.

Or else?

Or else…

Grabbing his ragged coat from the settee, the man coughed into his fist once, twice, and absently wiped the offending knuckle onto his beige pants. He headed for the door and resolutely grabbed the tarnished doorknob with a shaky hand. The hinges squeaked. A child, perhaps the acting leader of the pack, called out for everyone’s attention as he insisted to play hide and seek.

A countdown, and the palpable air of small bodies scattering. The man decided musingly, that he would humour them and join in their little pastime. He’s always been good at hiding. Though, he sighed out in quiet lamentation, with his old age and raging rheumatism, it would not really make the job any easier for him.

But only one child would win the game that night.

No one would ever find her.

He’ll make sure of that.

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Filed under Prose

Swallowing Diamonds: Does It Hurt?

Don’t even know if you left a note
Should we blame the Dekapote? Or vilify the Abilify?
You were trying to find your vanilla sky
Then you unravel, facedown on rock bottom
Fucking chewing gravel, because
A human’s so fragile, what can you do?

~*~

Got another issue

Pressing like a migraine

And all the healthy “bless you’s”

Can’t repair, can’t compare

To the amount of extraordinary pain

That’s felt with every angry stare

.

So I take a pistol that’s pink on one end

And swallow it whole ‘cause my life depends

On the gunpowder chemicals

Checking up on my broken physicals

Recycling my blood through and through

10 out of 10 doctors recommend that it’s true

.

They all thought I was blissful

‘Cause they never wanna hear about

The things that are fucking awful

Trained by clinical trials, trained by pharmaceuticals

So I’m still saying “I don’t need your help!”

As I choke on my fucking gavel

.

I’ve got a teaspoon of anxiety for my head

And a glass of borderline thoughts before I go to bed

As my body fights every request and rejects my skin

The strangers may praise me, but I will never win

Even if I had all the money in the world to sell out what I love

Would that change the happiness I lack in my blood?

.

‘Cause everyone’s a critic

And a cynic and they all “get it”

When they’re living in glowing cities

With their missus, acting clever

With their 9-5 IQ’s and 401k GPA endeavours

Feeling guilty their children didn’t get their Nerf Guns

.

But monsters don’t discriminate, it’s all fair game

No blame on no names, every label is the same

You could be sitting in gold and still don’t want to get old

You could be in a prison cell and don’t do what you’re told

Or you could be like me, contemplating a straitjacket tee

On my way out to an existence that doesn’t cope out too badly

.

So maybe there are issues that cannot be fixed with tissues

Or underhanded “you’re fine’s” or endless rounds of “bless you’s”

But it doesn’t hurt to compare and it doesn’t hurt to repair

The amount of extraordinary pain that no fake adrenaline stain

Nor serotonin on our hair, taken with a beggar’s angry stares

I’m only human like you and them after all, would it hurt me to care?

~*~

They press our teardrops into diamonds
They change our sorrows into gold
They’re gonna turn our blood to rubies
We just need someone we can hold…

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Aggravate

It’s a wink

It’s a smile

It’s a tribute

It’s defiled

It’s an insult

It’s the lie

It’s who wants

To even die

It’s a stone

And a bruise

One got hit

And they lose

It’s a doubt

It’s cold flame

For a kid up in

A wrong game

It’s a smirk

It’s a grin

It’s the fun

For who wins

It’s a sinner

It’s a cynic

It’s too funny

Now, isn’t it?

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Filed under Poetry

win, win, lose

one step

forward

and two

steps back

you did

what you

can carry

and the rest

is up to me.

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Filed under Poetry

Eighteen Years and Twenty-Somethings

Was picking up pieces when you
Gave me a reason to be
Falling down the middle
Crawling ’round a little
And I see that space in your head
And I want to fill it in…

~*~

I want to throw my irrational fears down my favourite set of stairs

And fade away the wounds that once defined my unsteady hands

I want the chance to breathe without polluting my lungs with ashen doubts

Drag me out of the skin I’ve beaten within until they can understand

.

So take the breakdowns that broke me up and replace the faulty intuition

The devil on my shoulder won’t compare to the angels in the television

Hang up on this week-long hangover and stop hanging my neck by the rafters

Still deluded by bad choices and old mementos and happy ever afters

.

The kids are not alright these days, and their clothes are stained with sad

But I didn’t think I know that I knew until I have it bleeding out and bent-up bad

So there’s a little cold weather, that’s gonna get a little better, maybe there’s a little sun

Maybe it just doesn’t exist in my head, maybe my moon will have someone

.

So maybe hope doesn’t belong to me just yet, and these noisy voices won’t shut up

Maybe I’m suffering from silent anxiety, shot through the ceiling, it won’t stop

But this time I won’t let it win, I’ll catch it by the tail and let myself spin

Spiraling all the way to space, I’ll crawl through constellations until I find that something.

~*~

I won’t lose my grip, don’t let go
No, I won’t lose my grip, don’t let go
I think I found that something
I think I’ll finally breathe right in
I think I feel that love I won’t give up
I think you soaked into my skin
So much has come from nothing…

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anatomical dissection: brain

what hurts more,

remembering to forget

or forgetting to remember?

.

you count all the wins

and all the pyrrhic losses

that take your victories under

.

what hurts more,

the scars on your shoulders

or the scars inside your mind?

.

invisible to the naked eye

but a succumbing force that

makes you lose what you’ll find

.

what hurts more,

staying for the sake of leaving

or living for the sake of staying?

.

lock the pain up in your room

and hope this house burns down

with you still trapped inside, crying

.

what hurts more,

all the words that they said

or the words you never spoke?

.

sticks and stones don’t break bones

but splints and cement puts them back

quietly mending what you always broke

.

what hurts more,

knowing too much of everything

or drowning in your own ignorance?

.

scourge for knowledge, miss for bliss

drain the oceans and fill up the abyss

self-hatred fighting your self-defiance

.

what hurts more,

this cold logical ideology

or the lying sentimental truth?

.

it’s a constant push and pull

of devastating dreams and riled reality

inspiring like the rabbit inspires the wolf

.

what hurts more,

overthinking things again

or not thinking about it at all?

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Filed under Poetry