January 2012
57 posts
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Ahri-Ahrihan.
Ati-Atihan Beki1: Kuya! donation lang po! Magsasayaw po kami dito sa tapat niyo tapos kakain ng apoy 'tong mga beking to.
Ako: Ay sorry, walang pera.
Ati-Atihan Beki1: Aysus! kuya sige na! ikaw pa, mukhang madami kang datung!
Ati-Atihan Beki2,3,4,5: KUYA! SIGE NA! KAKAIN AT BUBUGA KAMI NG APOY PARA SAYO!
Ako: Wala talaga e. Sa iba na lang.
Ati-Atihan Beki1: Ay ganun, sige kuya chupa na lang.
Ako: sa isip ko lang *ghurl, mas magaling pa ako sa inyo! TSAROT!*
Ako: *pumasok sa loob ng bahay*
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clavicola:
I’d like to write a poem about silence but already there is too much noise.
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clavicola:
I can never read my own words, can never clutch at their necks and choke out a meaning without putting months between us first. I feel my poetry in the base of my chest, as a thin puddle of rainwater that I look into and see myself among last winter’s leaves , and a run over coors light.
It’s so easy to look at the mark of another’s pen and see a glimmer of your own scarf fly...
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If Famous Writers Had Written Twilight…
Herman Merville: “Call me Bella.” A tome about the length of the original series investigates Bella’s monomanical search for the vampire who stole her virginity. There’s an entire chapter devoted to describing the devastating whiteness of Edward’s skin, and several on the physiognomy of vampires, starting with their skeletal structure outward.
Virginia Woolf: The novel takes place over the course of twenty four hours, during which Bella is painting a portrait of Edward and reflecting on how her femininity circumscribes her role within 20th century society.
Jane Austen: Basically the same as the original, except that Bella is socially apt and incredibly witty. Her distrust of Edward is initially bourne out of a tragic misunderstanding of his character, but after a fling with Jacob during which he sexually assaults her (amusing to no one in this version) she and Edward live happily ever after.
Ernest Hemingway: Edward and Bella exchange terse dialogue alluding to Edward’s anatomical problem. Eventually, Bella leaves him for Jacob, a local bullfighter with a giant…sense of entitlement.
Ayn Rand: Edward tells Bella that he intends to stop saving her life, unless she starts paying him in gold bullion. Hatefucking ensues, then Jacob spouts objectivist philosophy for the next 100 pages.
HP Lovecraft: Edward cannot reconcile his own horror at becoming a vampire. He rapes and kills Bella but attributes it to the desires of an ancient Deity outside our power to understand. Everyone thinks it’s ok because he calls his devil by a cutesy name.
Haruki Murakami: Bella has sex with Edward, who is half a ghost. Jacob is a talking cat. Most of the prose is given over to descriptions of Bella making pasta.
Douglas Adams: Bella is the last of a discontinued series of robots made to emulate the now extinct human race. She whines gears and randomly pouts moronic gibberish while falling over. She is accompanied on her travels across the cosmos by Edward, a sparkly giant space banana and Jacob, a small wooden box of doom.
Dan Brown: Bella is a famous scientist who specializes in folklore. She is contacted by Edward, an old and well respected friend who is an expert in history, indicating that someone has been murdered in Forks. When there he is greeted by Jacob who acts as her guide to the new town. They have an intimate relation as they track the mysterious “cold ones”. With Edward's help they are led on a wild goose chase only to realize that he was responsible for the murder in the first place.
Chuck Palahniuk: Bella, who is never explicitly named, carries on relationships with both Jacob and Edward who are actually both alter-egos of the guy who almost hit her with his car in the first book. The entire book is written in diary format from the point of view of her spleen.
J.K Rowling: Jacob, Edward and Bella are best friend throughout their schooling years while hormones flair and they defeat evil forces. Bella continuously rages and scolds against Edward for being emotionally inaccessible while Jacob awkwardly tags along as the third wheel even though he’s the main character.
Terry Pratchett: Bella is a troll from the mountains who falls in love with Edward, a charming, handsome assassin. They have various adventures in a parallel universe until Jacob, who is Edward in the future, disrupts everything by being heir to the throne. Bella nearly dies but is saved by Edward/Jacob + a comical, mythical ingredient. Instead of 4 books there are 103.
Neil Gaiman: The story begins with a song. Then the song creates the world. Then major, minor and demi-gods appear. A hero’s journey in hell occurs, with Edward starring as the brooding, pissed off vampire who can’t drink blood because of a spell and must go to hell to break the spell. A duel of philosophical/existential dimensions ensue. Somebody gets swallowed up in a vagina. Edward saves the world by singing.
Stieg Larsson: A tale of political conspiracy that reads like a cross between The X Files and Sucker Punch.
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I had another weird dream.
It’s like a mash up of my 2 favorite books, Hunger Games and Harry Potter.
I woke up in my dream in a room filled with lightbulbs. One by one, these lightbulbs suddenly goes out, and it’s complete darkness. It only means one thing, the game has started - be killed or you’ll kill. I heard noises from no where, I panicked, I don’t want to be vanquished. I was cautious and...
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Dear You,
august-is-over:
I’ve known you for so long that it would be absolutely impossible to imagine a world in which you didn’t exist. You unquestionably mean everything to me, and that’s why I love everything about you. I love that big beautiful smile of yours and I love the way your nose crinkles ever so slightly when you smile. I love staring into your eyes, especially when you’re not looking, only...
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Bi-polar II.
“Hon, sobrang na-miss kita… Ako ba? Hindi mo na-miss? Nami-miss ka na din nitong alaga ko.”
“Ramon naman! Pagod ako, alam mo namang galing ako sa biyahe, pagpahingahin mo naman ako!”
“Hon, sige na! Ilang araw din akong natigang sa’yo. Miss na miss na kita! Sige na, pagbigyan mo na ako.”
“Si Hon talaga, sige na nga! Kung hindi ka lang talaga magaling mag-romansa. Teka, mag aayos muna na ako,...
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Ghost in the Mirror
august-is-over:
Sometimes when I look in the mirror and I don’t see myself. Instead I see a ghost of me, or rather who I want to be. Standing behind me, looking over my shoulder, looking on in disgust. Sometimes this being screams discouraging messages. And sometimes he appears with a discouraging look upon his face, as if to judge me for every decision I’m about to make. Sometimes I feel like...
awarewolves:
I can imagine the taste of your palms, as they slip away from the contours of my skin. They would remind me of the sea, and the days we spent under the spotlight of the gleaming moon. You said those were supposed to be the best days of our lives. Tell me how it should feel, now that those days are expected to be washed away by the rising tides of time.
Someday, I might already...
“A Thousand Miles” (Vanessa Carlton) |Boyce Avenue...
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Memories
august-is-over:
Memories are strange things, aren’t they? You sometimes forget things you never want to forget. Yet sometimes the memories you want to forget, haunt you. Sometimes you forget what a lost loved one looks like, no matter how badly you want to hold on to them, they just slip away. And sometimes you want to forget a hurtful memory, yet it’s there haunting and taunting you the moment...
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Geri Halliwell | “Mi Chico Latino”
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Fragments, you
awarewolves:
We lay still, listening to the music of our breathing, slightly amused by the fact that respiration was in itself a valued performance, with oxygen as our choice of instrument.
You said that if we align our anatomies we can perfectly craft a constellation together. I said that every cell that makes you up was like a star, housed in the galaxies of your skin.
I’ve always known...
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memorykill:
Thrones: Indifference - Taken By...
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Becoming you.
august-is-over:
As much as you and I would like to believe, we are not individuals. We don’t stand on our own two feet, but rather, we are interconnected to a greater web of dependance than we realise. Love nurtures us in to who we are, and friendships bind us in to a greater destiny, to reach the full potential of who we can be. Friendships, love and creativity, those are the single most...
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Bi-polar.
Kakaibang init ang naramdaman kong dumaloy sa aking katawan nang nasilayan kong naka-hubad ng pang-itaas si Brando at pawisan.
“Hindi pwede ito! Lalaki ako. Mahal ko ang asawa’t mga anak ko”
“Hay nako ghurl, wit ka na mag maganda, palay na nga ang lumalapit sa manok, aarte pa! Bet ka din niyan ni Brando, and for sure, wala namang makakita sa inyo. Go for the gold Ramon! Isipin mo na lang ang...
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INOJ | “All I Want”
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(43)
clavicola:
You didn’t know me when I was young enough to believe that you could bloom love like orchids on the kitchen table.
My father loved my mother the way Degas loved his ballerinas. He wanted to carve her out of marble, but forgot that statues don’t have heartbeats.
— only cold palms, and silk folds of stone.
How do you learn to love when you were never taught to as a...
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LXXXIII.
swollenpoetry:
imagine his vines wrapping around your stems stretched out from your arms
and his songs echoing inside the caves of your lungs, airless and empty
remind yourself of his flowers decorating your elbows smelling of summer and rain
his leaves, which borrowed the color of oceans made out of your sweat
find out his roots, planted deep, inside every vein carrying your blood
he lives...
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INOJ | “Love You Down”
clavicola:
I want to lay in bed turn the lamp light on and read your skin like braille.
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026. LQ.
Not a good liar,
that’s what you are, and i know
it is not okay.
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025. happy together.
Perfect kind of date -
in PJs, warm blankets, food,
us and Wong Kar-wai.
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Corrine Bailey Rae | “Put Your Records...
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024. utopia.
And someday we’ll meet,
In a perfect time, and place.
You. Me. No one else.
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awarewolves:
And someday, we’ll be perfect for each other, the way a group of stars form perfectly a constellation drawn on the map of the skies.
This is something that may have come out from the tip of my tongue before I met you.
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023. polaris.
Lost without your love.
Don’t know where to go or start.
Be my northern star.
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022. streetlights.
Artificial stars,
in my deep and darkest nights,
guide me, show the way.
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004. go figure.
Don’t read minds,
read my feelings.
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clavicola:
A star slit its throat on the moon tonight, bled over its white basin and watched the color drain from its skin.
My English teacher calls those who read poetry sensitive, so maybe it’s not my fault that the smallest things break me, not my fault that even my blood cells are cracking like glass. My words have become fractures as of late, splintered bones, dark skeletons of lost...
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021. push and pull.
Do not let me go.
Because I might fall too hard,
to others, but you.
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020. downhill.
We were once happy.
Everything fits perfectly.
What happened to us?
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019. iMassage.
skin against warm skin,
rough thrust, whispers to your ears -
“extra service, sir?”
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Happy.
august-is-over:
I’m only going to walk out of your life when I know you’re happy. Truly and utterly happy. It may not be with me. It may not be for sometime. But when I know you’re happy. When I know you’re fulfilled, that’s when I can close the book on us. I love you and I’ve tried with all my heart to let you go and forget, but I can’t. The day I know you’re happy. When you have everything you...
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Changes in Time
august-is-over:
When I see you now, I notice how your hair has changed, how subtly different you look and how you seemingly increase in beauty. I wonder why I didn’t notice these things when we were together. Then it hits me just how long it’s been since I saw you last.
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Together, we lit the whole city in infrareds and...
awarewolves:
This is the first night of the first day of the rest of our lives. This is the first hand I am holding, in the first night of the first day of the rest of my life. And it is your hand. And it is as if the whole universe is opened wide in front of us, our eyes of a luster reflected by a thousand galaxies far too distant yet so near, shining in twists and turns of collages of tiny...
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whattadeuce:
Disney should make a princess with no hair so that every little girl who's fighting cancer can feel beautiful.
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“Light touches the wooden floor of my foyer
like you touch me, not the other way...”
– “poems about love never make sense,” S. (via clavicola)