Monthly Archives: May 2012

some philosophical thoughts about poetry reading

What I know

is that the poet

stands on the stage

while the audience awaits

for the poet to read his piece.


After that, he goes down

applause from the crowd;

the poet’s ego is boosts once more,

really digging the scene,

maybe seeing something bigger

during those times, i’m not sure…


I ain’t sure because in my case, it’s

different…readings are done inside the

bathroom and it is practiced everyday or

while lying on the bed simultaneously


writing and taking notes and ideas…

no applause no cheers from the crowd

because there is no crowd ——–

the crowd is the ceiling to fix my eyes on

at night when words and verses meanders

inside  my headspace.


from ” the book of envy “



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poorman’s dream

peaking…..I talked to R about what

it would be like in heroin; shooting

up veins and withdraw…We’re

imagining the junkie versions of

ourselves. My eyes dilated and sharp,

I scan the veins of my right arm

intensely and said, ” mahal nga lang “…

R. nodded in agreement. We have to

be realistic and practical. Stick to S instead.

from ” deviationcummeditation”

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….still dreaming today..

dreaming of yesterday,

and sleeping 

on tomorrow….


from ” to woodshed “

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The Dopefiend As A Sensitive Young Artist

” i am what you are”

Bring on, bring on the rallying horses on me!

I’m heading to the level of self-realization where the path is bleak and narrow.

Sadness is a long lost true love evoking poetry.

Be desperate. Have poems.

Reams of written verses made into shape in just one night ——– and lost all of it in the morning after.

Write and write; with drugs you might not remember a thing.

I, who badly needs sleep. I, the bedridden genius.

O, come on thought, rest your restless wings!

To the man, ” serve me and i’ll be your servant”

Death is like a first-hand experience on scoring junk, you don’t know what’s on the other side.

Whitened Tongue, Shimmering Eyes

The user not the substance.

” lowd!, lowd!, lowd! ”

….and still, I just can’t get enough

junksick junkhead junkie fucked up in the head

You’ll never know restlessness, not until the mind shuts down.

Suffer wicked brother.

A dream covered scream.

From clouds to sadness, from dreams to rust.

The man provided a rather long bed for us to stay awake

Dreams are for gods

Fixin to die is all I hear…

Back to hell —— and feeling much better

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can’t sleep…

must be the

effects taking

its hold by now,

or must be the bug

of my woman

leaving me.


from ” deviationcummeditation”

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