rMartin’s Nook

five past

the fourth hour

of the afternoon

alone with the strength of ice.

left the four corners

of my yellow box.

Lost.

searching, without answers.

questions, blurry

a couple, across the third belt

in conversation

girl’s crying

guy’s nonchalant

can’t be good

wipe those tears, chile

things could only get better.

clothes off,

party all night

i hear the beat, and i smile

if it were only that easy

singularity gets old

everyone else

seems happy.

light another red.

words sent,

words return.

stuck in a rut, but everything’s fine

alone in a not so crowded place

strong is relative

medium is safe

i shout silently

and i hear the clouds scraping

it’s all good,

everything works out.

it’s another week,

just another sunday.

it’s the day after.

havin’ coffee at starbucks.
(where else? lagi naman eh, kahit solo flight.)

so, i see this tree and wonder…

“nice. how long did they put this up?”
“why didn’t i notice it before?”

and more importantly.,.
“why the heck is it so big?!”

i’m reading this really small book (no exagg there, it really is small…), right now, telling me that people like me are more like “pioneers” rather than “settlers”. That i rush into a situation impulsively, stir things up, and before things get done, i’ll bolt. In a flash.

which makes me think of this giant tree that seems to be on fire at night.

i can probably start this fire…

but i don’t think i can put it out.

and that makes me think.

twice.

thrice.

i probably won’t stop thinking about it.

was flyin’ back to Manila, from Roxas City.
i look out the window.

i see heaven.

or what i think heaven looks like back when i was a little kid. clear blue sky, countries of clouds that stretch forever…

truth is, i don’t think heaven looks like this, really.

i don’t think heaven can be found 8000 feet above us.

heaven, can be found here, all around us.

a good deed. a kid smiling at his new toy. a couple locked in a kiss.

windows to heaven, are these.

sure, your friendly neighborhood cynic would say, “but HELL’s all around us, too! Moreso than heaven!”

he’s right. which makes it a MUST that we see the windows of heaven. it’ll keep as sane.

still, at 8000 feet… it’s nice to imagine that when you look out the window as you’re seated comfortably in the plane…

you see heaven.

a little electronic bird told me, to expand my senses today. including my sixth sense.

it’s weird. ‘coz the funny thing is, last night, i’ve actually stepped out of my zone, and started taking a walk outside.

i guess my sixth sense would be…. useful.

this is my first post of 2006. and it’s June already.

but hey, i don’t think anyone cares, really.

It is.

really.

frickin’ weird.

blech.

Waiting…

Pin stripes cover the surfacing sound

thumping sound, breathing with effort.

sharp, golden shoes, antique, with luster

tap, tap, tap.

touching the cracked surface of the floor.

as usual,

(though, it has been a while…)

my thoughts drift.

i see myself, as if detached

from my body

i see someone scribbling.

brewing something, in his mind’s eye.

and i wonder.

Blades of the ceiling go  ’round

and ’round, and ’round.

a thin blanket of comfort is offered.

on sheets of mechanical breeze.

cover each and everyone,

stifle anxiety

but, could it, really?

Almost done.

brewing, breathing, thumping.

but one thing remains.

Waiting.

Half past Eight.

Barstool comfort.

waiting for the girl.

the moment has passed,

but, still waiting…

Or rather

waiting still.

The strength of ice, kills time.

Beauty crossed the path of both eyes.

Someone else’s princess,

hovers beneath the dim lights.

Red tinkerbells line up, joins the wait.

As always.

Predestined company.

"Is that so much, to shout about?"

it’s true.

The distance is everything.

Round two.

Breathe smoke.

Six percent flows through my being.

Still i wait.

Quarter left of sixty.

It’s all about numbers in a circle.

The hands move, as the bright lights are sung.

Aaah, the city wakes from its slumber.

And the working class comes alive.

Like i said…

It’s all about numbers.

Fast forward to tomorrow.

Today was yesterday’s worry.

The sun has risen.

The sun has set.

Pain at the center.

Covering your insides.

Ouch.

Highway trip, red tinkerbells return.

Leading the way, passivity gone.

I long for romance, but tired of wanting.

The bubble rises. I ache.

The moon and the stars are nowhere.

2.28.2005

rMartin’s Law #1:

On a special day, anything that can go wrong, might go wrong.

Ok.

Blogs.

Been receiving Blog announcements everyday, so I figured, what the hell, why not try this new form of… hmmm… ano nga ba tawag dito? A form of expression? A medium of communication?

I guess it’s both.

Blogs.

Here we go.