Lazy from C-Z

Last day of freedom. But why just now. The more I say, the less I do. When the clock begins ticking, it's me that does the reverse. Does that make me the anti-clock? Probably. Eleven months later the plan goes into full motion. Hopefully this time it leads to fruitful results. A little bit unprepared really but the plan is already set in motion. Honestly, I just remembered it five minutes ago. Fuck. So they say I should honour my own principles lest I be buried within the shadows of my doubts. I always have doubts, everyone has their own doubts. No matter the issue, there will always be doubts, and doubts give me reassurances. Reassurances that I need to overcome obstacles. Obstacles I need to overcome to gain maturity. Maturity that I never had, ever so evasive, ever the trickster, ever the pain in the fucking ass. We swallow the pride. Our pride. Yes, I am poor. We are poor. Poor in spirits, poor in wealth, poor even in hardships. Yet I stand here bearing the potential that I...

Happy birthday.. despite our differences.. I'm always here for you no matter how badly I treat you.

The two-litre bottle of Sprite warned me about this beforehand -- I wouldn't listen, of course. Who'd listen to a Sprite anyway? They're a pathetic and cowardly bunch, looking to take advantage of me whenever they see fit. And now that they see my final moments of sanity come crashing to the pavement like a freefalling vault, they act like hyenas preying on an unsuspecting victim. I am unsuspecting no more. All the trickeries in the world wouldn't fool me into thinking that the worst has yet to come. The worst thing in my life has already passed me by, and it has been with me for years now, mercifully killing me like a mosquito would to a stout bovine.  The bottle stares at me with its transparent, green look, and I fear it has lead me to think that it may be right. What's worse than finding out that your life has more drastic consequences to undone actions than actual rewards itself? That is a question that fails to spark any powder in my mind, a ruthless decay o...

Parachuted out as a trooper bearing heavy arms, landed to the ground safely and with luck. I could see bodies freefalling to their deaths shot down in a distance by lurkers bearing heavier arms. My thirst to kill now fills my body with determination. I sprint forward with other men, explosions banging my ears left and right, as the platoon leader signals us towards the bunker across the distance. I could see light pass me by, sometimes flickering, many times harmless. Only that it scares me to think it a mortar offensive. Death is but an inch closer than before, honking at me to say how foolish I am to partake on such careless and blind faith. It shimmers above the sky as if part of that light, and I look at it with these vanishing eyes, wondering to myself how awfully mistaken it was to associate mortality to the colour of black whereas here, floating above me, looking at me straight in the eye, is an indication of truth as to the misrepresentation of that same knowledge. It hugs me u...

She says me wild underneath the velvet fungus shed Gazing at the stars together and alone Taking photographic memories of the future from the past Recreating steps from the ladders of hope Farther and away we glide and glide some more Adequate vibrancy to our togetherness This girl disavows my torturous desires for acceptance Gnashing our sharp tongues at each other's throat Dancing to the moment of our gentle love Over the guise of hatred that we spawned I put mine into hers as she did into mine We intertwine

Grasping the air from the incandescent torches of the cult. She was there, long gone, with none of the bullshitry witnessed, looking from a distance and observing, waiting, capturing that perfect harmonic moment of elation. A guardian form of the weak, she symbolises hope and new vigour for life that proved fatal and demised. These were men no more, only fragments of imagination of forms unlike our own, their humanness taken from them involuntarily, serving as sacrificial lambs for the kipple of earth multiplying on its own like the kipple that it is. Branded sufferers of the unkind and unjust treatment of nature's ever-loving wrath, they swarm the streets in hopes to regain their insufferable ability to think, for it is no longer theirs to perform, stolen from them by the desires of some unknown entities looking to evolve into something more than it can accomplish for itself, in hopes to stray away from the wicked grasp of predestined circumstances. While all her followers claim...

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. - William Butler Yeats

Never so nimble Nor the nightmares of Nero Numbnut I am not

Mad thoughts manifest Just like tiny specks of dust It makes us wonder

Whatever happens I will always see this through For better or worse

Rain struggles to fly Nothing for me to expect But the wind of change

'Pagsisisi, lagi na lang sa huli. Sa mga pagkakataong nakakalimot 'pagkat tayo'y tao lamang.' Inihagis ni Enrico sa silid ang boteng may lamang alak, at sa panandaliang oras ay naramdaman nila itong lumutang ng ilang segundo bago ito bumagsak sa sahig at nabasag. Sa sobrang takot ng babae sa loob ng silid siya'y napasigaw, at ang reaksyon ni Enrico'y umalis na lamang at iwasang masangkot sa kaguluhang kanya mismong sinimulan. Lumubog ang mata sa iyak ang babae, hindi dahil sa boteng nabasag, ngunit sa kanyang nakitang reaksyon mula kay Enrico. Hindi niya inakalang magagawa niya ito sa tagal ng kanilang pagkakaibigan. Makikita mo sa kanyang mata ang kalungkutan at pagsisisi na sanhi ng kanilang nagbabagang hidwaan. Napaupo na lang siya sa kinatatayuan at hindi inasahang maturok ng nabasag na bote malapit sa kanyang tuhuran. Habang lumuluha'y namamangha siya sa pulang dugong lumalabas, at lalo pa niyang pinisil ito para lalong umagos. Sumasabog sa galit si E...

Her disguised eyes spoke to me infidelities, simply a warning of what was to lay ahead. I crawled through the narrow path leading to the oasis carrying only my sanity. Hers was long gone, anchored deep below the red tide, whispering profanities as if the faults were mine. It was both ours to share, including the long weeks leading up to the tragedy. The direction her lips face, her body language, her lost desire for pleasure, even the outward positioning of her hands. I punched the air more than once to vent the frustration. It was of no use. The damage has been done, tonight something has to burn and someone's head has got to roll. 'Fuck you!' she yells at me, her eyes squint, full of rage, with desire to spit in my face. I could have slapped her there and then but I didn't. The little cunt thinks she can just manhandle me like that. I lost my footing for a short while, only realising that my hand is up in the air very much prepared to end her misery and mine once and...

Follicle strands remain unkempt but why bother. Certain cries of calling fall tragically on deaf ears awaiting jurisdiction feeding lies off of cardboard boxes and tin cans of lager. An inferior delegate reminds them all of the burden and falls back into the slump, carrying the unbearable weight of its stigmata. Frail as snow as a timid, old woman in her nineties finds herself in a garden of make-believe unhampered by its formulaic occurrences, a sort of accepted norm that is dominant all throughout that make-believe space governed by make-believe smiles, sharing the feeling of nostalgia with the leaves and the feathers. She clings to the wall like an arachnid and drinks something from a flask like an amphibian drooling for its greens or hay. Smirking from a distance, sly flower frees herself from the shackles of dismay exhibiting all manners of rebellious spirit. Impressive at her age, no matter how fickle. She spawns the good and the beauty to give, like it was her own to spawn, a mo...

The sky tore its veil wide open, gasping, at the severe penalty of the accursed weather condition. 'I must not weep,' it cries. 'This pity party is never my most appealing trait.' Therefore he gave way for the ground to mature and thus making progress at the marvel of the greens. He stood on top overseeing the bounties its children may yet offer at the behest of the moon whose mischievous master ever burns brightly at the break of day. It gave way for life to flourish thus organisms began to roam the earth. Different species abound immediately at the development caused by the sky, and his pride bloomed even moreso, drawing more air into its cloudy bodies and helped sustained the new world around it. Like a nurturing mother whose task was to manifest love, it sparks its potential, hearken to their pious needs, and punishment for their indiscretions. Long lived harmony and prosperity. Burning for a reason to thrill, the sky willed itself to aim more higher in its desire ...

The first kid carrying napalm on his hand asks a curious question, 'How many surrealists does it take to screw a lightbulb?' He answers it himself saying, 'Fish.' The crowd bursts into laughter. There is no crowd. There is no kid carrying napalm. But there really is that question. 

Marta stood on top of the pillar, sinful and wretched, with her soul so dark one can easily distinguish her humanness dissipating. Long gone were the days of young Marta walking along the park swaying her hands in alternate, with vibrancy of her lips giving life to all around, and the humming that passes through it and charms the passers by resembling a pied piper. She could command them at will if she wanted to. But her innocence, coupled with her beauty and grace, it stands alight and flourishes, pushes away the temptation and begs them forgiveness as if she were at fault. Her strength lies in empathy, not the love that drives most of the righteous crusaders, and this empathy is not exclusive for good, as one could be drawn too to evil for compassion. Once those who took interest in her soul found this corruption leeway, they quickly drove adrift and performed preemptive actions. Not long ago, as Marta was passing through the park as she normally does, her shoe caught trapped on a na...