*
Angry Again-Megadeath
there was a dream about golden horses
and little girls with hair of flames
in that dream you were a flower,
grown for the bird shat on the backyard of an ogre.
The ogre labeled your fragments; his wife gave you food,
his wife combed your hair, his wife told you that
“he is just a product of trauma and turmoil”
for many years, you kept a knife for the ogre’s neck
but his wife was kind and his sons were innocent.
the ogre labeled your fragments, he made sure that
you would be reminded of that seed from the shit
you came from.
Still, you kept the knife. Still, his family was dear and innocent.
one day, the ogre saw a bird on his window
and you,
you ate the sky.
splattered by: CJ Tanedo
*
your cheekbones are sinking.
.
even if i didn’t understand it because of the hardcore symbolism, the artist in me understood…
these were my favorite lines:
“Still, you kept the knife. Still, his family was dear and innocent.
One day, the ogre saw a bird on his window
and you,
you ate the sky.”
@officem8: isa ka yahong nga pata ka na 
@ron: language speaks most when unspoken. sometimes. 
…the ogre saw a bird on his window and you, you ate the sky.
hindi ka talaga tao. you’re a goddess. this is profound and beautiful and you amaze me shitless. haha.
the words in this work of art - they capture one of my nameless memories of certain monsters in my life. some days i feel i want to eat the sky too. and be free from the ogre’s labels. but some days i feel that it is a sad thing to do - eat away the sky and all the unheard things that go with it. T_T
Posted by kimay at October 1, 2008, 9:26 pm@ kim: hehehe. paakon tika da.
you remind me of my self a year ago but you’re much much better. i am proud to have met you soulkiatamawlolsis. hihihi.
*
she likes seashore naps and the view of everything from the bus window. she likes tiny moments and the small spaces between faces when people talk.
sometimes, she wakes up to that odd feeling of being a fallen leaf, an old tree, an azotea or a waitress somewhere-- talking to a taxicab driver about that random song on the radio.
*
---
---
and this. a proof that:
how you see LIFE is how
you actually see YOUR self.
*
*
***
maddening spurt:
----------------------
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
-Jack Kerouac-
profound, artsy angst.
Posted by officem8 at September 26, 2008, 2:52 pm