Withering

Nothing.
Not even a snap.
When the tie breaks,
It let loose all the things it holds to the ground.

Nothing.
Not even a climactic soundtrack.
Like a thief,
It goes in and out without leaving a trace.

Deceitful bastard.
No matter how hard you hold it in your hand
Like sand,
It slips without a sound.

Nothing.
Not even a loud bang.
It breaks open doors,
Taking away schemes like a bad dream.

Nothing.
Not even a whisper.
Like raging waters,
It stormed off and with it, the premise you once believed in.

Deceitful bastard.
No matter how tight you hold it together
When it is bound to go,
It falls off
Like leaf blown by breeze..

or else... it withers.

With this prayer, I'm letting go
With genuine love, wish you well.
Scarred but not beaten.
Forget time, forget the sacrifices.

In the calming of storm,
When the waters gone dry,
That which moves us
The reason for being ceases.

Forget you, forget me.

In this withering...
We will be reborn.

Seven Cuts: Reunited

After over a decade in hibernation, 3 members of Seven Cuts gathered together for an afternoon jam session paving the way for the creation of the following music videos taken in a studio down in Espana. This is a rare opportunity so i am posting it here to commemorate the other members who have fallen busy and the songs that once united us and our batch. Bwahahaha! Rock on!

Jamming lang po eto ha... highschool pa last naming praktis kaya pagpasenshahan nyu na kung hindi angkop sa inyong panlasa. :)












Special thanks to Blanca for sharing these videos and for jamming with us too! You rock! =*

Candle

Entry for EPH Contest...

to follow...

A Troubling Poem

This is your story,
It ends where it started
Shackles and chairs
Unseen yet predicted.

In my sleep, I hear it
Like old butter squeezed
In stale bread and served
In foreplay of irony.

This is your love story
Hummed in tragedy
And no amount of jovial over tones
Can subdue the sound of cipher and fear.

Yes, they listen and pretend
Look happy to comfort
If asked whether this is about you,
I'd probably say no too.

Conjure my own tale
From your doubt, be set free
So that you can go on living
Happy in your sad little love story.

Rendition

To bring in a melody in these words
To tuck in the meaning and sugar coat
With the heavy strums of the guitar strings
And angry fast paced thud of drum beat
To further bury in unconventional melody
The once clearly conveyed is now obscured.

Sing it by heart, sing it sweet and loud
Aim high, let's go in circles as we drive the night away.
Slip in the note, smile as they applaud
The meaning getting lost in the melody
The meaning in discord with the harmony.

To bring in the secrets uttered in whispers
To serve as subterfuge to a simple scene
This is the best way i know you'll comprehend
If only i'm not maintaining a note higher,
You might just find me in futile attempt
To synchronize the heart and the lyrics.

But these are just wishes doomed to fade
Kick the seat back silently and sit up straight
Sing it sweet and sing it loud
As we drown the meaning through this song
I don't know what you have been told
But the world is not going to be put on hold...

For you... tonight... in this rendition.

Tremor

In between consciousness and sleep,
The heart beats sending the body in gentle sway.
A rhythm that forever seems consistent,
One more tick of the clock and i'll say i failed.

The resonating ringing in this hollow shell, only i can hear.
The words that fly across to mind, lost before fully grasped.
The firm yet strained contours on the forehead...
What?! Did you just say something... just say it again when i'm calm.

How many times did it blink and how many times did you blink?
Answer me... this is a matter of national security.
That sound... where is it coming from? will it ever end?
Your name suddenly popped up... Hey... are you watching me?

The heart beats only this time it's faster.
Not so certain if wide awake or fast asleep,
Must have been the thought of you behind the screen.
In between the rhythm that forever seems consistent,
The clock abruptly stops.

Pendulum

What moves you?
What keeps you to tirelessly hit
Back and forth, a punishment
As you kiss the rock solid surface.

What triggers you?
For how long will you be
In suspended animation,
A masterpiece in every swing.

The world works in a funny way,
The only way they will attend
Is when you finally learn to stop
Only to be pushed again.

This is who you are
Someone suspended in fixed support
Under influence, easily swayed
Go and break a leg.

Shatter

A fresh serving in the morning
A plain steaming statement in waiting
The meaning dissolved in darkness
Like sugar wildly stirred in coffee.

Undeterred ghost, though blinding
Savored the play of lights, fought to reflect
Though perfect... it shatters.
Can you hear? Right there behind the counter.

The fairest of them all, condemned to be the same.
Tolerate, as if it's the only thing sane.
The smile, the eyes, the one that parts those lips
Excused while she acts dazed to everything else.

Behind the chains, the pen and the paper,
The message that was clearly conveyed
Is now a mere ignored reflection of a shattered self.
The ghost? Now, gone deaf, mute and numb.

Seven Days Of Bad Luck: Day 6

Like an automaton, everything seemed to pass by me in a haze. I found myself sternly staring at the white paint, a horizontal line indicating a division between the pedestrian lane and the highway. I muse at the thought of what to become of me if i decide to step out of this safety zone. Nah. I wouldn't die. I'd only piss off more drivers who were already agitated at the way the traffic was moving. On the other hand, I might get lucky. Some schmuck might actually run me down, cut me in half, drag this flesh at least seven meters across the coarse concrete. With my guts out, that would be a dramatic conclusion to this so called life, wouldn't it? I wonder if she would cry. I wonder if they would cry. Would you cry?

As i put a foot forward, a car suddenly passed by me. Apparently, the driver was in a hurry. The fact that i was almost indeed ran over by some schmuck is not what really occupied me. It was the kid sitting beside the driver's seat. She looked like a younger version of someone i knew. The way she looked at me lingered in my mind. Her eyes were piercing as if she knew what i was about to do. Chills. I put my foot back. Oh! i guess not today.

Evening. A knock on the door prevented me from getting fully absorbed in the blinking nothingness of the computer screen's cursor. "Get dressed," he said.

To follow...

Seven Days Of Bad Luck: Day 5

Day 5. A jolt of electricity on my left chest suddenly woke me up. I've been having these attacks for days now. It was still dark. The alarm clock stated 3:13 in the morning. With the lights still out, I let my hand feel something on the table overhead. Its destination was specific. The cellphone. I typed in "How are you now?" Long silence. "I'm still on meds," she said. I was utterly devastated. Noone's getting any better nowadays, I thought. "and you?", she continued. I feel sick to my stomach, feel fucked up for weeks, I've been called a loser, i've been treated like one, I can hear them laughing at me with their boisterous laughter and heavy footsteps. i wanted to tell her all these things but this won't help her case. What came out was, "i'm making progress."

An image of the blindfolded lady of justice holding a balancing scale on one hand and a sword on the other suddenly struck my mind. I weighed the circumstances, the pros and cons. but why is it that nothing seems to get any better... for both of us? Why do i feel that somewhere along the scale there is amiss? There is no justice lady! Only fucking choices! Oh God i wish you would cut off my head including the heads of the people who have forced me to make this decision that brought so much pain to her...and to me. That is justice. "Okay, you take care now. Bye", I said.

And just when i thought i have successfully excused myself, the phone rang. it was her. I choked. Heart felt constricted. I lost count as to how many miss calls had there been in the past weeks. A hundred? 150? I have no idea. All i know is that in every call she makes, my world is momentarily put on hold while the air around me seems suffocating. It is because in her every call, i'm forced to deliberately watch the cellphone ring until it stops vibrating. Not talking to her is such a killer. But i have to be steadfast for this whole thing to work. I have to be able to finally convince her that i don't love her anymore... that she's nothing. And soon, in the darkness of this room, i'll find me convincing myself that i can't go through it anymore. I can't. I might not survive to see the end of it. "I'm sorry," i uttered as if she can hear through that phone call that had expired minutes ago.

If you come to think of it, there is nothing really special about this week. No, the stars did not conspire to give me bad luck for seven days. Why? Because this scene has been playing even before i made that idiotic prediction. I've been playing the scene where i'm wallowing in pain, making sure that in everything i do and touch, i leave traces of my misery. If there is any different at all, that would be the fact that i'm getting better in making it worse as the days pass by. I've shared my story to others for the hope of alleviating myself of the pain, only for it to become a celebrated tragic love story in the end. Ironic. Now, i feel estranged.