SupahStarah

"In my mind you are present in all things.But the bed betrays me:it remains half full."

Where are you?I miss you.I miss us.I want to whisper my poetry to your inattentive ears right this very moment.Remember?

Please remeber.Or at least try and pretend to remember.As Neruda puts it:I want to do with you what the spring does to the cherry trees..

Come back.

"Give me peace, love and a hard cock"- Tori Amos

How hard is that huh?!..how hard is it to give peace?! How hard is it to give love?! And how hard is it to give a hard cock?!…

I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you.All you can do is stalk them and all they can do is panic and give in.Maybe that’s what I’ll do.So that I’ll get my fair share of peace,love and hard cock.

This is my site.Fuck your criticism.

Ive been fucking this past few days.It gives me the pleasure of being able to inhale that acrid smelling smoke that just takes away every ounce of humanity left in me whenever I exhale.I tried to get away from it,its not that hard.And besides,it feels good.(but still not as good as a good smoke)

I’m messed up.And what I want this very moment is a smoke.So I’d be sweaty all over my bed and with my juice somewhere in the sheets.I like sweating you know.I sweat a lot.And when I say a lot,it means "sweat-trickling-down-my-body-like-Niagara-falls".That much.I sweat when I jog.I sweat when I’m excited.I sweat when I’m fucking.I sweat when I’m smoking.I even sweat when I’m crying.ANd that’s what I hate most.Sweating while crying.I don’t know if it’s still the tears or the sweat trickling down my face anymore.It just gets me fucking and freakin confused.

I sweat a lot when I took the test.And I literally sang my heart out when it was non-reactive.I celebrated with a fuck and smoke.Hey,if you’ve been reading my other blogs,you will no longer be frowning right now.I took a freakin test just to have a goodnight’s sleep.Coz I am freakin paranoid.

I think I am old enough now to be doing things on my own terms.Just wait till I get a fucking job.And when that shit happens,Im gonna buy a whole pack and I will fuck in front of everyone who matters in my life.And they will not give a damn.

Anyway,got to go now.Im gonna smoke with my own hands.

Can I love person who sends me messages only 2 times a day,3 the most?Can I love a person who does’nt want to be called "my"?Can I love a person who doesn’t appreciate the time of waiting for a jeep with me?Can I love a person who doesn’t want me to say "i love you" in person?Can I love a person who doesn’t miss me?Can I love a person who doesn’t ask me to meet him unless I asked to?Can I love a person who wants me to stop eating the foods I like(but is unhealthy)?Can I love a pesron who is very busy with work?Can I love a person who wants me to cut the "hairtail" that I grew for quite some time?Can I love the person who doesn’t say "i love you" to me?Can I love a person whom I haven’t touch even the hand?

Can I?..Yes I can and I AM IN LOVE.

Swamped.She emerges from the lake, like a volcano abruptly formed by the forces of nature.A dark angel with a red rose to signify her blossoming hope.In the crosscurrent,where does she go?Must she go with the flow or against it?

Escape.The gossamer hands of the mist let drift toward her a rowboat in answer to her prayers.On the path, she hopes that the murky water that has held her captive for so long will be forgotten forever.

Red alert.Shackled to a tree,our lady in red chases liberty in the depths of her being.A damsel in distress, straight from the wild, wild west.Where have all the cowboys gone?

Remembrances of things past.Her stare,soft and and sad and sweet,digs up remembrances of things past.Memories of home are fantasy in a haze,flash fiction in her mind.

Caught in the act.Pure enchantment,lush as a primordial forest,is the reality of her soft-focus interpretations of kingdom come.But the path is strewn with branches,like surreal fingers.Another sign of dangerous curves ahead?

Fight or flight.Our fine,feathered friend holds on to her desire to fly high,up and away,over the rainbow and to another world.

Solitary confinement.Suspended in the air,the swing thing is to get all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Saved by the belle.Finally, her knights in bright-colored armor rescue our gothic princess.With an excess of happy sentiments and sugar highs,she rescues them back.

If you want pain..if you like tears..if you need sleepless nights and suffering..find a friend and fall in love- casper

How is it that no matter what I say or do,you still ignore me.You dont even know how I feel about you.Have you ever bother to ask me about my feelings toward our special relationship?Do you miss me?Do you even know me?It doesnt mean that when i told you i love you satirically,it doesnt mean a thing.You have satisfied my hunger in your own way.You taught me how to love again but you never taught me how to be loved.Because I have never been loved.I know I will never be able to say what i feel for you in the flesh for I am afraid to lose the friendship that we have.But please at least pretend that you care and do me favor..please smile for me..

The ghost of your smile will always stay with me.It will linger forever in my memory.I envy your eyes not because they are beautiful but because they can see you.But me?I still have to dig into my memory just to see your face.I miz you.I’ll always care and I’ll always be your friend even under the wings of our friendship that is full of prtentions..

     For the first time in my entire fucking life,I learned how it is to be a smoker.How my lung feels when fucked with all the toxins a white stick can offer,how my blood feels when rushed with smoke.It feels good.

      The very first time I tried it,it gave me the feeling of rolling over the side of the bed after a good fuck.The sweat on my forehead tickling every inch of my face.My heart pounding like I ran an extra mile.It just feels good (but no better than a good sex,mind you).

      It gave me the feeling of heaven.Being the toothbrush addict that I am,I swore to all who would listen to me that I would never ever smoke.But now I do.I guess some promises are really made to be broken.Like the promise of a love forever.(damn!)

      After a good smoke,my mouth and throat feels dry.My entire mouth tastes bitter.Oh yes my entire being is bitter.Who wouldnt be after being dumped by the person you really cared about?By the person you really hold dear to your heart.So here I go again.The same litany of a broken hearted dimwit.

      On that ill fated summer when I thought everything was going along just fine,I got crushed.It would have been ok if its in the flesh(so I could strangle the neck of the asshole while screming WHY?!)But it all ended over a fucking phone(shit I missed the chance of strangling the neck of the asshole while screming WHY?!).But I guess one cant have all the satisfaction of that scream.After crying for like an eternity,all I heard from the other line was the nastiest goodbye ever.And the line went dead.My mind swirled like the swirling of the smoke of the cigarette Im fucking (I enjoyed calling my smoking session "fucking").I felt sudden vertigo.And I dont even know what the hell vertigo REALLY means.But I rememberd reading something about it from Milan Kundera’s "The Unbearable Lightness of Being"(AMEN).So anyway, I tried fucking coz I also remembered a friend of mine telling me that fucking(smoking that is)is a good way to relieve stress.And since I’m already desperate to try anything that would take me out of my misery,I tasted my very first stick.It was Marlboro Menthol and I was sucking on a cherry flavored candy.I fucked on that stick,placed all the smoke inside me and puffed it out along with all the pain I feel.I was relieved.It felt good (but not as good as a good sex)

      So now, I learned the art of smoking. And I’m gonna tell you once again that it feels good.And when I say "I am fucking" that means I am smoking.And when I say "I am smoking",dont be a nincompoop,you know what the hell I’m doing.So, forgive me father for I will sin,I am going to get a good smoke.

  I lie naked on the cold, marble floor. Soaked in the salty sweat of two, once hungered souls. I lay there panting; every breath I made created a mist in the air. The moon shines brightly in the night sky and my frail body exposed in the eyes of the judging stars. Suddenly out of nowhere, the sound of a harp started singing and I opened my eyes and tried to see in the semi darkness. I stood up, my body glistening in the light of Luna, shiny from the sweat and oil of my own flesh. I stood in front of the large glass window and I saw me from behind. Silhouetted against the majestic rays of the moon, I began touching myself, trying to search my own paradise.

      My hazels, like hawk, can see from the distance, the ghost of the soul who shared my longing. My hands still searching, groping every part until it came to a halt. I smiled, for finally I’ve managed to imprison the thing that started it all. I started driving myself to craziness. Dancing with the fog swirling around me. The powers of the night air came upon me but they could no longer penetrate me for I was burning. The nymphs came and they played along. I spun around and around until I grew exhausted. But I know I must not stop. For if I do, I will feel a searing pain inside me. I continued the dance. The nymphs all laughing as one by one they started caressing the map that is me. They’re hands like ice but soft groped every inch of me. I began sweating profusely, like falls that flows without end. Out of thin air, a sound echoed and I wondered where it came from. The sound was desperate, longing and beautiful, until I realized that it came from me. I never knew I could make music. I never knew, not until that night. I started to burn like hell and I wanted to scream but all that came out of me is music. The flesh inside me that pumps life to my veins started drumming fast. All components in me are moving in fierce force. Then all I can see is fire when the nymphs began to vanish into thin air. I was panting furiously and sweating like no tomorrow. Why?! Why must this happen to me?! I know no answers will come for I must search for it myself. I lay there in the cold, marble floor, my body shining bright in the rays of Luna. Tears fell from my hazels for I came undone.

Untitled I

By:Quitz

Red as blood in thy rose I wept

The pain from the thorns

In my heart I kept.

I once shed pearls from my own mistakes

For the love I thought I own

For my heart’s sake

I am a soul lost in a metaphysical plane

A marionette carved by a sweet dame.

Made of acacia with a heart not of wood

Show me love, show me pain

To learn these things, I know I could.

The strings that hold me

Cut loose by you

I fell in the darkness

Of the unsure and of the untrue

Drowned in the sea of sorrow

I know I’ll die

Longing for you tomorrow

As swift as the air you breathe

My arms outstretched

And I could not reach

You left without adieu

You left without a kiss

From me to you

The rose, once red blood

Now frail and brown

Forgotten by the gods

But the thorns still in tack

Always holding me back

I was lost then in the labyrinth

When I heard your voice

From underneath

You were there, you said to save me

You shone your light

Enabled me to see and fight.

Again you taught me how to plant a rose

And now it’s red for all I know

Still with thorns so thick
But I’m still willing to give and take.

      Over a bowl of porridge I contemplated on the person I have become.A tablespoon of sugar and milk completes the recipe.Over a bowl of porridge I contemplated on what are nation has become.If you can fit the Filipino life inside a bowl of porridge,It will be bitter without the milk and sugar.

      These past few days our country has been full of controversy.Anywhere and everywhere you can hear voices shouting "Gloria Resign!".Whenever you turn on the television you will hear news of rallies,of corruption,of fucking politicians pretending they care but in reality they have their own personal interest.I am a Pupian,Iskolar ng Bayan,and they say that as Pupians,our eyes are already open to the reality of the bitter world of our society.We Pupians are known for our being an activist.I am one of those activists but I am not the type who joins different political orgs and run and shout in the streets.I don’t believe in rallies.You see, no matter how many voices you plunge on the streets,the people we are fighting are the ones who is in power and whether we like it or not they can either listen or turn a deaf ears on us.I also hate rallies.Rallyists are selfish people.They just pretend to think of the welfare of others but don’t they know that they are only causing noise pollution,traffic,violence,traffic,the paralysis of the economy and more traffic.And besides who would want to get water bombed and slapped by stupid,big bellied police and swat teams?Who would want to be under the heating sun for hours?well I don’t.You might think that I am a self centered person and I am not going to deny that.But as i have told you,I am an activist.But i am more of a mind activist.And besides the best battle is fought in silence.

      We,the democratic people guard the government.We always take note of the mistakes of the government,even the simplest ones.But have we asked ourselves if we are doing something for the country?Why not actually do something rather than run in the streets and shout your lungs out?If you really care DO SOMETHING!We guard the government.But who guards us?No one.That is why no one sees the flaw in the things(rallies)that we do.

      Over a bowl of porridge I drowned the yellow scrambled egg.Perfect combination.If we and the government work and really do something,perfect combination.If we set our personal interest aside then there is no need to add sugar and milk to our bowl of porridge.But if we continue to argue and not work as one,we might as well take our own bowl of porridge and slapped it into our own faces.

      Think.Over a bowl of porridge.