Shorty

it wasn’t my intention
to flail towards your direction
it must be some incantation
that triggered my locomotion

now i’m trapped in your orbit
and you have become my habit
the harder i try to fight it
i find myself crawling to your pit

i went through all this trouble
just for you to burst my bubble
and my world starts to crumble
losing my way through the rubble

-mang jose

Advertisements

One day lover

Today I found out that it could be possible
To feel this way after these years of mono
So I lay everything I have on the table
After the dawn breaks, we will never know

Just for this day, just for this night
Stay with me and hold me tight
Because by dawn, we will never know

Slow as a bus traversing Edsa-Cubao on a rush hour, I’m taking my time.

Slow as a bus traversing Edsa-Cubao on a rush hour, I’m taking my time.

Time when you and I are trapped by its hands, sharing the night’s prime.

Strafing left and right, I’m avoiding trouble.

Trouble that never fails to catch me, every time these emotions bubble.

I’m lost, I am always lost.

Lost in this chain of frost, the cold night bounds its host.

Crawl before I walk, walk before I run and run before I fly, my mother says.

But this burning fire deep within me shall never accept anything less.

Make it last, make it or break it – I want you when I feel the loneliest.

One last time, make my riffs on this old guitar linger on your black forest.

Hey girl, feel the pleasure and drop the pain.

What a night it has been, till next time, see you on the next train.

-averagejom

Ano?

Ano?

FEBRUARY 24, 2007

salamat sa pagpunta mo
mabuti na ang pakiramdam ko
kahit mayroong paring ubo
pasensya sa pag inarte ko
at sa mga nasabi ko
alam kong galing ka pa ng san mateo
at halatang hapong-hapo
teka, taga dun ba ba si recto?
di naman sa pag disrespeto
hindi ko kasi sya iboboto
ang corny ng comemrcial nya – “korecto”
akala mo kung sinung perpekto
h’wag kang magsawa sa ‘yong trabaho
h’wag mo akong gawing ehemplo
nung akoy isang empleyado

It is a good day to die

i lie half-dead with Sol’s gentle ray filling the gaps
beneath the sheaths, it slowly slits my soul’s straps
like a clean slate with no trace of hate
to god i succumb, i entrust my fate

whether it be eternal damnation
in hell with no chance of pardon
a highway to the road of perdition,
or the less traveled path of human reason

inside the golden gates that admits only love divine
no possessions, nothing is yours nothing is mine
unaffected by the hands of time
it is a good day to die, so it seems

much better a funeral!
with a clear day and a gentle breeze
i know it doesn’t get any better than this
but wait, what is this smell?

fried rice sautéed to perfection,
it’s scent tempting and taunting me to it’s direction
it is not a good day to die, so it seems
not when mom is cooking breakfast on a Sunday morning

-joma