green green grass

February 28, 2007, 10:55 am
Filed under: it's just me. you dont have to care.

because you’re here, it won’t mean we are together.

you’re here because you have to be here for reasons i’d rather not know. they’ll just confuse me and make me hope for something as good as charity.

i am here because i do not want you to think that i do not want to be here. sometimes it might mean the other way around when we are tired.

but you and i both know that we are not here.
you know we are somewhere.
you’re there.
and i am here, or so i thought.


Belinda’s Waste Basket
February 27, 2007, 2:03 pm
Filed under: cw posts

The waste basket is under the study table, beside Belinda’s bed. Belinda thinks it is best placed there.


In the waste basket, there are one or two crumpled pages which Belinda stole from her diary which she burned the day she realized she can never be civil towards her gay bestfriend who confessed that he is in love with her.

The hairs she cut on that fair Tuesday are carelessly slid in an old dusty envelope.

The pieces of the broken sunglasses she sat on the other day are inside the Watsons’ green cellophane.

The wrappers of Belvita Milk Biscuit are also there in the waste basket–the one Belinda missed to throw inside is under her bed traced by the good ants.

A bottle of Johnson’s Baby Powder is among the trash while the luminous red box of Macadamia is flaunted open, empty.

Jim the Boy and Dido’s White Flag
February 25, 2007, 2:06 pm
Filed under: it's just me. you dont have to care.

early this morning, i realized something. actually i have been thinking quite about Jim, the main character of the novel i’m reading and Dido’s song, white flag. like black coffee and royal true orange, they are mixed up somewhere there in the skies i created in my head. coffee and orange do make smell when i pee (really…). it makes me smile,though. anyway, first, i realized that Jim the boy is so much like the girl i was back then. it’s not that he is gay! or that i’m gay! hahaha! i mean, in a way that, i think, we have the same dreams as a child. and…Dido’s white flag, ehem. whether i like it or not, i’m in love. i’m always in love. it is either with myself, or to someone or something else. but, mind you, i do not believe Dido. i know she lied. and i know i lied too.

once upon a time, i thought i’ll sing Dido’s white flag for the longest of time. but i thought, i’m really too young to have thought of such crap… and i know it was my way to justify myself. oh i was such a liar. a child. a little girl who thought she could eat the stars. but that was also the same time she thought she could reach them. just like Jim.

so i bid my farewell to Jim the boy and to Dido’s white flag. i’ve been really feeling happy these days i can’t look back anymore…never will…not at all.


another rose killed it
February 17, 2007, 5:48 am
Filed under: it's just me. you dont have to care.

so this was what they said it is.


the real score.


the whether-you-like-it-or-not.


the–    least you could do is wait for the very day

it will tire itself and die of old age.

just like those men who spend the rest of their nights drinking,

over their wrongs,

until they become so old

that their bodies weaken.

 they can’t even clean their assholes or put food in their mouths.

and die without anybody mourning for them.





February 13, 2007, 2:05 pm
Filed under: cw posts

At eighteen when the sunbeams of the morning could still have hurt his eyes, he stretches out his hands just as high as he can reach. He likes doing it–a lame exercise to ready him for the course ahead.

From his bed to the bathroom to the dining table, he insignificantly follows what he did yesterday morning, and the other morning, and the mornings before. He greets everyone with sneezes and smiles. He sneezes more than anyone else in the house, even more than his grandfather from whom he got that nasal complication that induces sneezing after waking up. It runs in the blood–anyhow.


Jim is his name; he likes it because it is short.

He admits he is lazy–but that might be a poor word to describe his idleness. He can lay all day on the sofa and watch television. In normal cases, he is like that with his right leg fixed over the other. His big toes moving deliberately like a conductor’s stick, or a speedometer perhaps, signifying the intensity of the shows he watches. His mom hears him say, “tanjigigertz”, in varieties of tones expressing levels of emotions.

At night he goes to bed, when the 25-watt bulb could have hurt his eyes, he won’t turn the light off. He is afraid of the dark.

February 6, 2007, 12:13 pm
Filed under: it's just me. you dont have to care.

seeing you is like seeing you for the first time…
and so everytime i see you is the first time.

it always goes that way.

we can’t smile.

Let My Cat-Instincts Out the Bag
February 6, 2007, 11:32 am
Filed under: cw posts

Last night I had a mouse-chase going. I laid still
between the sofa and shoe rack—
in case it will come out nicely out a hole
in that roomful of papers,
cloths, cans and dusts.
The whole time I did not flicker an eyelid;
it might scamper right before me
and I will miss it.
Until the wait expired and settled
as a false hope. So I closed my eyes,
Finally sensing the cold floor appeasing
my hairs down to my very skin.
And the night, was silently devouring me
To sleep. But I did smell it—it tickled my
My whiskers through my wary nose.
Ah! I heard it too!
But my instinct was swifter than my eyes
that it was Browny I mistook for a mouse.
My heart leaped a hundred miles
that I screamed the moment away
and ran like Uncle Cheetah.
Until I found myself a safe place
up near that hung pictures. Thank whoever!
I do not want my nine lives to be all gone at one time, you know.