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Facelift

It’s been a year since I started this blog; ten months since I last posted here. Do I still deserve this blog?

Anyhow, I’m giving it a facelift. Writing is hard, and I know I’m not the most brilliant writer here, but I can at least try.

Perfecting the Stroke

(something I wrote 3 years ago…)

This is my time.

My penmanship will no longer look as awkward and lost as they used to be; my pen will redeem me.

It will perfect the stroke I have desperately experimented on countless of times, its ink will not blot and blur the words that needed to be written down, its cap will not be misplaced and end up in other people’s pens. It will be a little strained, stressed but will never be wasted into writing gibberish. Every letter that gets written, every sentence that gets formed will speak of truth and mirror what has been experienced and understood.

At times, my words may not be appealing and it will be okay. I will continue to write for as long as there are moments worth penning down, as long as there are thoughts not worthy to leave stagnating in the corner, as long as there are stores selling pens (as long as the keyboard works).

The world still has so many words to teach me and I will be patient, I will be a good student. I will write and perfect my stroke.

Ferrari

fer

I know that you’ve always wanted to drive a Ferrari.

Trade that old, rusty, poor excuse of a car you have

For a sleeker, faster run.

 

So tonight, when the last white of the bulb dims my eyes,

Instead of exhausting whatever’s left on my purse,

I’m gonna do you a favor…and dream of a Ferrari 458 Spider.

 

For you dear, not a single centavo will be charged.

We’d go on a road trip, race with the wind,

Run like the tracks have never been smoother,

Observe how the sky never changed color even if we’ve navigated the city thrice.

Your friends will junk their own cars to look for girls who’d dream for them, too

And those chicks who’ve not a single second sniffed at your existence,

Will have their toes pointing at you.

 

But there’s only one thing I ask

And I hope you won’t mind if I say

That on this vehicle made exactly for two,

I hope I’d be the one sitting beside you.

I’d pull over the retractable hard top.

Just in case you wouldn’t want to be seen driving some hot wheels

With a girl who’s better off riding a truck .

 

You don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want to,

I’d let the windshield and the mirrors catch your eyes for awhile.

And while you’re moving the steering wheel,

I’d just imagine that it’s my heart you’re maneuvering.

 

To the Insects

I opened a message

I sent to myself

It read: “Nothing to Display”

Where do I put the blame

For my wordlessness?

To the mosquito that got away

Before I clasped its wings?

That has sipped perhaps

A syllable or two?

Or to the ant that crawled harmlessly

On my arm

And bit the life out of the rhyme?

"The Ant Bully"Image courtesy Waner Bros. Entertainment

“The Ant Bully”
Image courtesy Waner Bros. Entertainment

(NaPoWriMo 2nd April 2013)

Blank Sheets

you took out a paper,

I gave you my pen.

I told you to write me a letter,

you presented to me a pastiche of the world’s clichés.

I noticed the excessive use of commas;

it didn’t make sense to me.

you said: “I don’t like periods.

I never want to end sentences,

especially not with you.”

 

you took out another sheet,

I told you to sketch us.

you handed me a drawing of

two periods against a backdrop

of larger periods;

it didn’t make sense to me.

you said they are not periods.

you said: “we are two, infinitesimal dots of paint

of the universe;

we are senseless when we’re alone.”

 

(NaPoWriMo 1st April 2013)