please...
|
Posted:Jan 8, 2009 6:19 pm
Last Updated:Jan 20, 2009 4:01 pm 14247 Views
|
...colour my world
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
announcement !!!
|
Posted:Jan 7, 2009 6:56 am
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2009 1:53 am 14457 Views
|
I type on google “forget him” and what a surprise! All the poems that come out are varieties of the poem I published on the magz member articles section back in the beginning 4-5 years ago. The original poem was written for me by my friend Jimenrex way back when. I still have the dog-eared hand-written original copy of it
somewhere. (Have to look for it again)
Mind you though, their versions murdered the true poem. Most butchered it to nothing!
I remember when Jim gave it to me, I was sleeping already when I heard him came in. he was carrying his slippers in one hand (I never allow footwear inside my house especially in my room) and he threw them at the headbord of my bed violently. When I looked at him he was crying (again!) fat tears silently. He hurled the piece of paper on my lap and left.
Couple of years ago, I lost the first copy he gave me that night. When I went to the Philippines again, I visited him in the rehab and made him wrote it again. I cannot remember anymore what, but some words are changed in the second copy (I watched him re-write it) coz he said he cannot reproduce the feeling of the exact moment.
I’m glad lots of people love it (If I found MY copy, I will publish it, so people can really see the beauty of how it was originally written)
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
eating soap
|
Posted:Jan 6, 2009 4:43 pm
Last Updated:Apr 18, 2009 12:26 pm 10724 Views
|
I was eating hot porridge at four o’clock in the morning taking a break from one of my night-time marathon when I realized that the goo tasted like soap.
Reminded me instantly of my youth, when a not properly rinse kitchen utensil would evoked a rage from my father and will result to an immediate incomprehensible reaction like forbidding all of us to go to school (which in our family was the cruellest form of punishment) unless you are second named Maricor and your parents thought you are their passport out of poverty which by the way a puzzle to everyone including yourself since you spent four years being a freshman in high school and the chance that you will stay there is 99 to 1 for so many obvious reasons like: spending your tuition money betting on a basketball game, stealing bikes (or carabao) drinking and smoking, experimenting with soft drugs (which btw a revolutionary for a girl like you in that place in that time but who cares certainly not you) but probably the best possible reasons was it’s because you failed to attend classes and instead roaming around preferably in the rain knowing your white uniform will be see-through and guaranteed for attracting boy’s attention by large. The rest will stay at home and clean the whole house crying, but not you; life is more exciting than all these things.
There were neighbour’s to fight, trees to climb, and boys to seduce; so staying at home was no option even it will result to few broken ribs and couple of bruises when your own ever-believing father throw you from the stairs because he caught you making out with the one so many boy-next-door while you said you were just going to the small shop to rent some comic books and that means not exchanging candy with whoever mouth-to-mouth. There is always tomorrow. And tomorrow is another day.
It might quite clear to everyone (except your blind parents) that you will end up to no good, and indeed you did. Before the end of another year being a freshman, you put your new clothes which was supposed to be for school’s Christmas party (your mother always bought them earlier during fiesta market because it’s cheaper and kept them hidden in an old fashioned wooden chest full of moth balls and in the night when she thought everyone was sleeping already, she will secretly take it out and hand-sewn the existing stitches to re-enforce them for hard-wearing) and disappear humming in the night.
You didn’t came back till 3 weeks after and you showed up with a boy whom you gladly demonstrated with the art of French kissing to your wide-eyed-open-mouthed- siblings.
You married him shortly after because your father insisted on it when he found out that you’re in the family way and not getting hitch before it becomes obvious will damage not only his self-conjured up “good” reputation but will shatter his oh so precious fragile gypsy pride. So, there you were, not even 18 and married to someone you never expected would beat you up to death while you were carrying his baby not knowing maybe it takes two to tango and your own attitude and ways didn’t really suited up for a married woman eighteen or no eighteen.
So when the baby born dead, you stay just after the funeral and said to your mother you’re going away and will never come back again. True to your promise, you never really did, even when they looked for you and found you in (un)likely place, looking more beautiful than ever with your fashionable cheap clothes and scars and needle marks on your arms.
Years after, your baby brother saw you at stop light in a limousine populated by personal bodyguards, you looked through him no expression no nothing. You live now in a mansion with an old Chinese who gives you everything but keeps you prisoner. I wonder if that’s what you are looking for, I would not even ask myself if you’re happy or when we will see you again if ever. It’s been 27 years. Too long to know somebody or even remember. Even that someone is your own sister.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
he
|
Posted:Jan 5, 2009 4:30 pm
Last Updated:Jan 9, 2009 9:58 am 8529 Views
|
Fair maiden, though you be but poor,
I shall love you evermore.
What care I for brains and brawn
When you shall make a pretty pawn?
When once in open fields you roamed
Now stone walls shall you call home.
No need to seek out mountain air
When thirty maids will comb your hair.
You will wear the softest dress,
And all will compliment your loveliness.
They will be indulgent when you speak,
But never will your advice seek.
You will whisper when you talk
And seem to glide each time you walk.
Ladies shall simper when they see your smile
And men will love you all the while.
With each passing year your soul will fade
As do the wildflowers in the glade.
Then when you are old and grey
The last of your spirit shall fade away.
If you are ready to be my bride
And cast your former ways aside,
Then take my hand and be my wife
And willingly give up your life.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
she
|
Posted:Jan 5, 2009 4:26 pm
Last Updated:Jan 11, 2009 12:56 pm 8456 Views
|
Pretty as your words may be,
I know they are not meant for me.
You really want a pretty doll
To live inside your castle walls.
I was not born to be your wife.
I enjoy the simple life.
I am made to sow and reap
And am not a woman for you to keep.
My hands are strong to lift my load.
My feet are made to walk the road.
I am accustomed to free air.
Those in your home find no freedom there.
Keep your dresses and your combs.
I intend to wander and to roam.
I'll make my mark upon this world
And be more than your pretty pawn.
My soul will not fade away.
It lives to sing another day.
Someday when I am grey and old,
There will be a hundred stories I have told.
Thus, I will not be your pretty bride
And cast my former ways aside.
Search elsewhere for your lovely wife
And leave me to my own wild life.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
convict
|
Posted:Jan 2, 2009 8:41 pm
Last Updated:Jan 11, 2009 12:55 pm 10809 Views
|
She stood from her chair
gathered her shackles
and unlocked her chains
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
we have to go
|
Posted:Jan 2, 2009 7:55 pm
Last Updated:Jan 10, 2009 12:11 pm 11022 Views
|
If I lie in your arms, one more time
Tonight,
Can we pretend
That this is yesterday,
Not the end?
Can we act, for a while, like you're mine,
Despite
The fact that we both know
That tomorrow
You will go?
If I cry, can we snatch the seconds back
That we lost?
Can we believe
That you don't
Have to leave?
I can feel the last moments are nearly,
Nearly gone.
And then, we both know,
I will turn;
And you'll have to let go.
All the days, all our dreams, went so fast
Out of mind.
Did we forget
Everything we meant to do?
The tears we wept?
We fought; did we lose the best parts
Of our love?
We both know
That, whatever the truth,
Tomorrow
we have to
go.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
i wish...
|
Posted:Jan 2, 2009 8:33 am
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2009 3:42 pm 39782 Views
|
I wish I were promiscuous, and slept with men all the time;
Indulge myself in decadent $ex with a different one or more,
I'd keep it quiet, secret and discreet;
After all, I don't consider myself a whre.
I wish I could sleep with men, with abandon and care free;
It wouldn't matter whether they wanted my $ex or me.
I would just get my jollies off, and he could get a bone.
And after the cigarette cooled down, I'd kick him out of my home.
I'd be a pu$$y magnet, coloured condoms by the bed;
I'd come then toss them one after another;
They'd put up with it, because I know I'm good in bed.
If I were quick to share my prize, they'd wait in line for days;
They'd stay by their phones, leave messages on mine,
In hope that I would call their line;
And when I made that special call,
They would run before I could get dressed;
They would jump and lunge at my heaving breasts
They wouldn't know when I would say “It is "time".
I wish I were promiscuous, but I wasn't raised that way;
So I have to wait until I am chosen,
By a decent man who wants to stay.
But if I were promiscuous, one thing for sure I’d know;
I wouldn't have to seek out or roam.
For now I am a celibate, and very much alone.
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
Do You Believe In Magic?
|
Posted:Dec 29, 2008 5:33 pm
Last Updated:Apr 18, 2009 12:34 pm 9253 Views
|
Miss Snow White was a rndy cow, and desperate for a fck,
So off she went in to the woods to try and get some luck.
She'd almost given up looking, when she saw some chimney smoke,
Then she stumbled on the cottage, and went in for a poke.
Her clothes came off in seconds and she'd just removed her pants,
When seven dwarfs came marching in with a merry song and dance.
Snow White just stood there speechless, and thought she was in heaven,
She originally wanted one good shg, but now she could have seven!
Straight away she took command, "My fnny needs a lick,"
And when one dwarf came forward, she said, "You'd better drop your pck."
So down he went on to all fours, and said, "I'm not licking that,"
"Not there, that's my a__hole, you Dopey looking twat!"
The next dwarf started blushing, "Do we have to do it here?"
Snow White said, "Don't be Bashful, or are you fcking queer?"
So reluctantly he pulled it out, to prove he was no fool,
And Snow White gave a big "Hi-ho!" as she rode upon his tool.
Now one dwarf wasn't smiling, 'cos he hadn't had a sniff,
And due to his impatience, he couldn't raise a stiff.
"Relax, you Grumpy bstard!" so he did as he was told,
And as soon as he was hard enough he shot his fcking load.
The next dwarf got a blw job and she took him deep quite easy,
But just avoided brain damage, when he sneezed and called him Sneezy.
With three dwarfs left she turned and said, "You next I want your knob!"
But no sooner had he entered her, he was sleeping on the job.
"Wake up, you Sleepy bstard!" she wanted more from him,
He woke with such excitement, he filled her hairy quim.
The next dwarf rammed his up her and shgged her fanny raw,
A dazed Snow White then whimpered, "That should be against the law!"
He made poor Snow White tremble; he was so big and thick,
"No wonder you’re so Happy, with that great fcking d_ck."
With one dwarf still remaining and feeling rather sore,
She said, "You'll have to use your tongue, my tw_t can take no more."
And so he put his tongue to work, where she'd just had so much c_ck,
And 'cos he made her better, she was to name him Doc.
Now Snow White couldn't do much with all that spodge inside her quim,
So she grabbed a cup and squatted, and filled it to the brim.
So that's the truth about the dwarfs and how they got their names,
By satisfying Miss Snow White and joining in her games.
There's one more thing that you should know, what happened to the cup?
Well think of what you’re drinking, when you next buy 7-up!
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
p.s.
|
Posted:Dec 24, 2008 10:32 am
Last Updated:Dec 29, 2008 9:24 pm 8990 Views
|
This Christmas eve I treated myself to a couple of xanax
Hoping to get through the occasion without feeling the emptiness and the pain…
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
