In the colorful bushes of Aunt Em's garden there were pixies of many arrays.
Striped to the crevices of their bones,
Whom children claim to own as much as themselves.
In the skies of Eden and the scarred deformities of a jet stream wind,
There was Boy, and then there was Girl.
Moving as it was, in an Oscillation of Perception.
Where one views the other a madman, whilst the other takes the person beside him a friend,
Of innocent intentions.
"I can see that he says what he means"
It was an age of development,
A time of pretty pretend,
A time of small hands building big ideas,
Of playing Doctor in the sandbox of yesteryears.
And then when it all goes into the fire furnace,
And the Oscillation of Perception still plays it's game of life.
Girl looks up at the night sky and thinks that the cobwebs would care to cover the smile she was giving,
To no one.
No one but the stars,
No one but the scrapped knee of a morning dew sky.
Of falling off bicycles,
And, and, and hoping to climb back up trees that were once subjects of chide.
Now enemies of pride.
"Biting just tongues"
And then the Trees Of Fall, there was.
A red, yellow, brown holocaust.
For when the roots were never sick,
For then the greens will grow,
To replace it.
To replace it.
"When a leaf falls from a cherry, who knows, someone might just care about it"
War poetry carved on doorways grown old.
"When All I Wanna See Is The End Of This"
The intoxicating puerility of carelessness sends his regards.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Rough Flowers
Walking on water,
Singing in signs,
I'm leaving you whether,
You like it or find,
It hard to believe,
I don't want to conceive.
This time it's serious,
This time it's gone to dogs,
It blooms like Caribbean suns in the dark,
Waking to the sounds of bombs,
Living in a plastic concscious.
For why I crave for resistance,
I don't know,
Like a road in decisions,
Like the road I am leaving.
To be craving, for virtual loops,
Of fun.
Woah, why do you feel so contemplative,
It's such a disregard to our catechist mentality,
Or rough flowers growing in deserts, winter, blights of volcanoes,
And we'll stand and you know why.
Singing in signs,
I'm leaving you whether,
You like it or find,
It hard to believe,
I don't want to conceive.
This time it's serious,
This time it's gone to dogs,
It blooms like Caribbean suns in the dark,
Waking to the sounds of bombs,
Living in a plastic concscious.
For why I crave for resistance,
I don't know,
Like a road in decisions,
Like the road I am leaving.
To be craving, for virtual loops,
Of fun.
Woah, why do you feel so contemplative,
It's such a disregard to our catechist mentality,
Or rough flowers growing in deserts, winter, blights of volcanoes,
And we'll stand and you know why.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Wei, Why You Don't Eat Pig La? (Welcome)
Hi, my name is Robert Gustavez.
And I'm an ex-drug addict.
My life used to be in ruins, I was always at a lost.
I was in the hood, ese. Where they shoot people for no reason.
I skipped school, I disappointed my gramps.
I've never been a prefect.
So when I was 16 I turned to nicotine.
But then everyone was doing it.
Everyone hated me.
So I stopped doing it.
But then I founded something better.
I founded the heebee-jeebees.
But that's not the point.
The point is, I was miserable.
But then one day when I was doing time in the block, some nigga went up to me and talked about politics.
"JESUS WILL SAVE YOUR SOUL"
"Man you must be kidding me, ain't no one gonna get me into parole"
"SON, YOU ARE LOST IN THE BRINK OF DESTRUCTION, COME JOIN THE FAITH OF THE MAN THAT SACRIFICED FOR YOUR SINS"
I was reluctant at first, but then I went to sleep and dreamed.
That I saw the Father.
And that's when I thought, Holy Father, I am a believer.
And I stopped taking drugs.
*
This program was brought to you by, Apple Inc. We're better than PC because we organize charities.
Hello, this is me speaking.
Yes, I opened up my blog for everyone to see.
You know, usually the orthodoxy of it is that people would usually publicize their previously restricted blog because they start to write about decent and perceivable things.
Well, if you've been a reader of my old blogs before, you should know that I don't..associate myself...with...orthodoxy.
Or any other church for that matter.
You see for these past few days, I've been going through "born-again-Christian" moments at odd occassions.
Sometimes when I eat, most of the time when I lie on my bed.
And even when I'm paying attention in class.
To all Christians really, I have no intention in offending you guys. I don't know even know any Orthodox, just Catholics, Protestants, Reluctants, and Subservients.
I just want, for once, the internet to be a place where people actually discuss their problems with the world.
Because really, the internet has now become a place of distractions. A haven where you can go to escape from questions you'd normally ask yourself if you were bored.
Like you'd be watching the news, becoming the audience of millions of death and famine. And then suddenly you'd forget all about it when your doorbell rings, and the pizza man comes to deliver your extra-large.
Or when you log on to facebook.
Join the "I Hate School" Club now.
So why do people fight wars? Do you believe everything they tell you on TV?
Do you know what they're fighting for out there in Israel?
Do you know why the Somalians are so angry?
Do you know why people even started the anti-ISA riots in the first place?
Do you give a shit about Malay rights?
Nope, you just feed off the debris they give you. Music, fashion, palatables, social networking sites.
And expect to get away with life just like that.
Don't you think someone is going to take advantage of you, and do whatever they want behind the parliamentary desks?
C'mon man, be an actual citizen. And not someone who asks for subsidies.
I can guarantee you, this blog is going to be bloody.
But whatever I write, the good things are from God, and the bad things are from me.
Oh, and if you were wondering, yes there's a CBox.
You are free to ask any questions, criticize me anyway you like, and we can all be brothers in the MACC prison.
I'd love to have your number too.
And I'm an ex-drug addict.
My life used to be in ruins, I was always at a lost.
I was in the hood, ese. Where they shoot people for no reason.
I skipped school, I disappointed my gramps.
I've never been a prefect.
So when I was 16 I turned to nicotine.
But then everyone was doing it.
Everyone hated me.
So I stopped doing it.
But then I founded something better.
I founded the heebee-jeebees.
But that's not the point.
The point is, I was miserable.
But then one day when I was doing time in the block, some nigga went up to me and talked about politics.
"JESUS WILL SAVE YOUR SOUL"
"Man you must be kidding me, ain't no one gonna get me into parole"
"SON, YOU ARE LOST IN THE BRINK OF DESTRUCTION, COME JOIN THE FAITH OF THE MAN THAT SACRIFICED FOR YOUR SINS"
I was reluctant at first, but then I went to sleep and dreamed.
That I saw the Father.
And that's when I thought, Holy Father, I am a believer.
And I stopped taking drugs.
*
This program was brought to you by, Apple Inc. We're better than PC because we organize charities.
Hello, this is me speaking.
Yes, I opened up my blog for everyone to see.
You know, usually the orthodoxy of it is that people would usually publicize their previously restricted blog because they start to write about decent and perceivable things.
Well, if you've been a reader of my old blogs before, you should know that I don't..associate myself...with...orthodoxy.
Or any other church for that matter.
You see for these past few days, I've been going through "born-again-Christian" moments at odd occassions.
Sometimes when I eat, most of the time when I lie on my bed.
And even when I'm paying attention in class.
To all Christians really, I have no intention in offending you guys. I don't know even know any Orthodox, just Catholics, Protestants, Reluctants, and Subservients.
I just want, for once, the internet to be a place where people actually discuss their problems with the world.
Because really, the internet has now become a place of distractions. A haven where you can go to escape from questions you'd normally ask yourself if you were bored.
Like you'd be watching the news, becoming the audience of millions of death and famine. And then suddenly you'd forget all about it when your doorbell rings, and the pizza man comes to deliver your extra-large.
Or when you log on to facebook.
Join the "I Hate School" Club now.
So why do people fight wars? Do you believe everything they tell you on TV?
Do you know what they're fighting for out there in Israel?
Do you know why the Somalians are so angry?
Do you know why people even started the anti-ISA riots in the first place?
Do you give a shit about Malay rights?
Nope, you just feed off the debris they give you. Music, fashion, palatables, social networking sites.
And expect to get away with life just like that.
Don't you think someone is going to take advantage of you, and do whatever they want behind the parliamentary desks?
C'mon man, be an actual citizen. And not someone who asks for subsidies.
I can guarantee you, this blog is going to be bloody.
But whatever I write, the good things are from God, and the bad things are from me.
Oh, and if you were wondering, yes there's a CBox.
You are free to ask any questions, criticize me anyway you like, and we can all be brothers in the MACC prison.
I'd love to have your number too.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
The Riots Remembering You
I remember your hell,
At a heartbreak hotel,
You were talking,
So bravely, so sweetly,
Leaving us sad,
On the unmade bed,
While the figurines wait in the streets.
Those were the prisons,
That was New York,
We were running for the money,
And the flesh,
That was called love,
For the workers in thought,
Probably still is,
For those of them left.
Oh, but you fall away,
Didn't you say,
You would turn your back on the clouds,
You fell away,
I never wanted you today,
I miss you,
I don't miss you,
I miss you,
I don't miss you,
And all of the gun-cladded clowns...
I remembered to tell,
At the secondly bell,
You were famous,
Your scar was a legend,
You told me again,
You'd prefer a handsome man,
But for me yo would make an exception.
Oh, clenching your fist,
For those like us,
You were oppressed by the picture of beauty,
You fixed your mask and said,
"Well never mind,
We are ugly,
But we've got the music"
Oh, when you ran away,
Killing me babe,
You just turned your back on the crowd,
You ran away,
I never wanted you to stay,
I'd leave you,
I won't leave you,
I'd leave you,
I won't leave you....
And all of that dancing around...
I don't mean to suggest,
That I love you the best,
You can keep track of each falling German,
I remember your hell,
At the heartbreak hotel,
That's all,
I don't even think of you that often...
At a heartbreak hotel,
You were talking,
So bravely, so sweetly,
Leaving us sad,
On the unmade bed,
While the figurines wait in the streets.
Those were the prisons,
That was New York,
We were running for the money,
And the flesh,
That was called love,
For the workers in thought,
Probably still is,
For those of them left.
Oh, but you fall away,
Didn't you say,
You would turn your back on the clouds,
You fell away,
I never wanted you today,
I miss you,
I don't miss you,
I miss you,
I don't miss you,
And all of the gun-cladded clowns...
I remembered to tell,
At the secondly bell,
You were famous,
Your scar was a legend,
You told me again,
You'd prefer a handsome man,
But for me yo would make an exception.
Oh, clenching your fist,
For those like us,
You were oppressed by the picture of beauty,
You fixed your mask and said,
"Well never mind,
We are ugly,
But we've got the music"
Oh, when you ran away,
Killing me babe,
You just turned your back on the crowd,
You ran away,
I never wanted you to stay,
I'd leave you,
I won't leave you,
I'd leave you,
I won't leave you....
And all of that dancing around...
I don't mean to suggest,
That I love you the best,
You can keep track of each falling German,
I remember your hell,
At the heartbreak hotel,
That's all,
I don't even think of you that often...
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Road Not Long Enough
Just a bike ride,
In the night,
Where the animals follow the light,
To find shelter,
To find hope,
Like the razor in time for the angry man's dope.
And the moonlight,
Is countered,
By eyes.
And she waits under the trees,
The stars following me,
And the world wears a mask,
With balloons at each ends,
And the task,
To professionally pretend.
The lake was gone,
And the sea was invalid,
I told her to look for a key,
A sign,
A ballad.
You're drowning,
But you can't swim.
A gritty remark,
Am I that dim?
And then a war ensues,
Between dissatisfaction,
And moths do wait,
In orderless actions,
And you leave me,
With a doubt,
Or a growing sense of decision.
Somebody is in your arms now,
Somebody else seeks out your throat,
And that somebody,
Is the body,
Of reflections,
On that lake.
Because the key,
And the sign,
And the ballad,
Is an angel,
That you ridicule.
And angel,
That I took,
To be you.
And the stars all agree,
That the leaves,
And the veins,
Made up of copper terrains,
Are a nightmare.
As the bike ride,
Of the night,
Ends,
With me there.
And the wolves,
Like the squirrels,
Stalk the arms of endearment,
Like elation,
Like a rogue.
Like a nation of hungry frogs.
In the night,
Where the animals follow the light,
To find shelter,
To find hope,
Like the razor in time for the angry man's dope.
And the moonlight,
Is countered,
By eyes.
And she waits under the trees,
The stars following me,
And the world wears a mask,
With balloons at each ends,
And the task,
To professionally pretend.
The lake was gone,
And the sea was invalid,
I told her to look for a key,
A sign,
A ballad.
You're drowning,
But you can't swim.
A gritty remark,
Am I that dim?
And then a war ensues,
Between dissatisfaction,
And moths do wait,
In orderless actions,
And you leave me,
With a doubt,
Or a growing sense of decision.
Somebody is in your arms now,
Somebody else seeks out your throat,
And that somebody,
Is the body,
Of reflections,
On that lake.
Because the key,
And the sign,
And the ballad,
Is an angel,
That you ridicule.
And angel,
That I took,
To be you.
And the stars all agree,
That the leaves,
And the veins,
Made up of copper terrains,
Are a nightmare.
As the bike ride,
Of the night,
Ends,
With me there.
And the wolves,
Like the squirrels,
Stalk the arms of endearment,
Like elation,
Like a rogue.
Like a nation of hungry frogs.
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