nine feet above our pebbled, cemented, roofless vestibule where we used to play and dress up as superficial heroes in expensive colored rags hang vines that struggle to disentangle itself from the smoke of sin and hypocrisy, a testament to desperation. at this hour our nighttime friend in its crescent dress and a rusted face glides behind our backs in a slow-motion waltz. its time is almost up. the streets are alive with the occasional buzzing of engines and incessant prowling of creeps craving sex and blood while the rest of the city sleeps. we surround ourselves with locked doors and curtained windows, but our residences are matchboxes built on a thin layer of crust floating above nothing. when were we ever safe? i’m finding it hard to sleep, estoy perdido.
it’s a dirty world. i am worried as shit.
English iv.
Humans. Our own version of deity in this corporeal world. Gifted with minds of infinite capabilities. They deserve nothing more than to be given treatment of the highest caliber, so they say. But how can humans really feel the gist of their being human? One word: justice.
On my own terms, justice is two things. It’s an essential tool that forms the bridge between dignity and our rights as humans. Dignity, with which we are meant to die, and the rights, with which we are meant to be born. Justice is also an infallible force that keeps our human tendencies in check, taking control of the inevitable consequences of our being vulnerable and imperfect.
So what would happen if we were denied of justice? Well, our natural recklessness would take its toll on us. The absence of justice would be enough to shake the foundations of our humanity. Our kind will rot.
Unfortunately, we are already starting to rot. Take a look around you, and you will see the truth; that justice is being denied more often than we’re willing to accept. Even by our actions of delaying justice wherein we think we’re doing no harm, we are already denying justice. As we can see, the consequences of delaying it are tantamount to when we’re denying it. That is because justice is an immediate need. If it is not served at the time it is being needed, then there is no point in giving it after it is being asked for. Justice overdue is merely insignificant.
we all know of the love that goes
and what it takes
to hold us still.
to pay for what was never ours.
to cry over what we thought we’ve lost.
wake up feeling it’s not enough.
what we’re quick to dust off,
we’re afraid to admit
but we never forget.
it’s the price we pay.
wipe the sleep off your eyes
as we go along.
i’ll sing to you everyday,
so you’ll know what it takes
to make out the words
we deserve to hear.
Monday, September 21, 2009
in your dreams, i won’t be there.
but beyond her, good night.
because these hours used to be ours
in these moments before we forget.
running in circles, should i make this more evident?
on some nights, a fractured verse.
but you won’t see through the smoke
or what it’s for.
and you’ll believe
i’m doing fine.
but you’ll never know
last songs sometimes lose.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
if truth be told,
we’d head back to the start.
right at the beginning,
when these muffled sounds used to be so sharp.
and the lullaby was something we danced to
before the steps got out too shuffled.
i remember i used to have a voice
a bird caged in a television screen.
who would’ve known then
i wish it stayed that way.
these days, they say.
not a wish is worth the thought.
but no matter how you hope less,
you’d still want more.
not a fucking chance to deny your own.
and if it’s all you could think about
but it’s all you’ve been fighting off.
and time was always on your side
but the moment was never yours.
would you let go?
well you know i can never stay,
but i remember you everyday.
i guess it’ll always run this way.
something to waste,
a promise to lay.
do nothing,
you still make me feel this way.
it’s the price we have to pay.
remind me of your voice with my sobriquet.
what makes us shiver in this daylight?
restless wings stirring the afternoon down to dust.
crisp as words, cold as communication.
now i haven’t seen you in a while.
blind men can make a sound,
mute convention can have a thousand witnesses.
what’s there left to prove?
i want to scream the song my mother used to sing.
our fears are calling,
but do you feel yourself falling?
don’t let it get to you.
next to them, we’re quite the same.
the thing is that you’ll have to hold me tight so i won’t stray,
i want to see you hear you feel you because i miss you everyday.
don’t stray too far so the night seems long
never run away, we’ll all feel better
speak loud enough and we’ll all sing along
twenty-four hours, it’ll all get better
it’s how you filled me up without amends
and not a hint of apprehension
from those floating monuments
there’s that virtue i haven’t seen in so long
twenty-four hours, your song doesn’t end
somehow, beneath my feet, forget yesterday
twenty-four hours, i find myself in flight
I KNOW WHY I FEEL THIS WAY
I AM YOURS, TONIGHT.
