possibilities

Waiting for the perfect thought to slit thru the open, like a sun emerging from a
triangle of sky; my mind is swelling with insignificance. I'm breathing in tiny atoms of life, taking mental pictures, the bedpost, the curtains, the lamps, at this moment are etching themselves into my memory. Their stillness, the only thing worthy of attention, beckons me to follow. Like a curtain unruffled by the wind this doesn't take away from the possibility of flying. I 'm listening to music, trying to silence, silence.

It's wet in the city, ( i don't remember how many times i've used this line in a poem, to me this evokes an image, a mood that i can't quite explain. But to say, i can never complete this thought, would be an understatement, that's why it keeps on popping up every now and then in my poems. i am writing another poem about rain, maybe i'll post it here when it's finished.
..... it will never be finished

i just had to take it

You're John Keats! You were born poor, trained to
be a doctor, and then decided you wanted to be
a poet. You threw yourself into poetry with
great dedication. You're very nice and
extremely dedicated to your art. You write
great letters and sexy poetry. It's amazing
how much you got done in your short lifetime.



Which Major Romantic Poet Would You Be (if You Were a Major Romantic Poet)?
brought to you by



okay, this was the result of a which major romantic poet would you be in u were a major poet,
but the link doesn't seem to work. oh well, as i've explained in my earlier my post, i'm computer iliterate... i wasn' t kidding. :) fast forward to a few minutes later, & apparently i can't spell either and my grammar's atrocious. and what about typos?...whoat abuot typos?.... we love typos don't we? yes we do my precious.....yes wed do .... whipsers smeagol/gollum/mushr

note: i was gonna edit out my mistake to make my writing look more presentable, but who am i kidding,
this is the real me.... wear it LOUD and PROUD!!!! *sheepish grin*

say....

imagine a world without hands......

how we'll we ever find love???

i think i'm getting the hang of this blogging thingy

first of all i hate the sound of the word 'thingy,' it sounds like something that shouldn't belong to the human speech, for trafalmadorians, maybe. but for all intent & purposes i shall use it here. also, i shall refrain from capitalization cause i'm feeling very small right now. so here's my dillema. for as long as i can remember, blogging has felt very campy to me, i could never figure out how to present my thoughts. first i thought i should address it to my invisible friend, ( yes, you, you know who you are, you sit very still). wow, that was a lot of you's, but that didn't really work, that line of thinking only encouraged me to delve more into my imaginary world ( where i usually get my characters for my fugly poems), hence it prevented me from being honest. then i thought i should address it to dear diary, problem is i've never kept a diary, ever, ever.i dunno, to me diaries are dangerous things. it's too concrete, too evidencial, it makes you too easy to be found guilty. i think our most secret thoughts should stay in the secret chambers of our minds/hearts, where it can recede back into a shadow whenever it finds itself in a place where it's not welcome. so now, my third attempt and finally i think i've figured it out. i will use my blog like a mirror, as if i'm holding a dialogue with myself, only, i shall be using the infamous, singular plural:gollum/smeagol/mushr. " we don't like tricksy little hobbits.. no we don't my preciouses... no we don't".

BOPRAGANDA (flashback)

This was my BOPRAGANDA,
on why bo bice should be the next american idol, I posted this a long time ago n on the ai boards. Now I’m very happy that he did not end up winning the whole shabang, coz I think it’s the best thing that could’ve happen to his career.
I think it would’ve hurt his street credibility had he won,
there are a lot of rock & roll elitist out there, phew!
Note: I was never really into AI except two evil teddy bears who shall remain nameless
Forced me to watch it, & also prompted me to write this piece. But dang!! bo rocks, his acapella rendition of within a dream by badlands, is what music is all about. Music is essential, it’s an expression of the human soul, it doesn’t even need to have words, take classical music for example. It just needs to come from the right place, it needs to come from the SOURCE, which I also try to tap into w/ my poetry.
this is pretty hilarious, reading it now. which is why it so fitting to put it here,
along with my fugly poems.




A Ballad of Bo an epic essay



Oh why, oh why, did I ever tune into this musical soap opera, the sound of music meets my granny made this nice tight leather pants, oh look , oh look?
But it's too late to turn back now. Now I'm hook, line and sinking. Go Bo...GO....
Me thinks this guy doesn't belong in American Idol Factory. *scratches left foot* He's just too authentic for this sort of set up. Don't get me wrong, I love watching him, and would love to see him slugging it out until the very end, but is it just me, or is something out of synch here?
Do you get that little jolly tingling down your a-spine, every time you see Bo Bice perform on the stage? he doesn't exactly perform, it's more like he rips the stage,
like a stallion leaving a trail of dust on the old patchy terrain.
I guess what’s happening here is, we are watching history in the making,
*tingles again*
Every now and then an individual, who's crawled out of the woodworks, would arrive at a particular scene and completely change the present as you know it. Throw the insipid norm into the backwaters of yesterday’s news. Put a new spin on the clockworks, and while they’re at it, they would maybe bury a couple of thousands of britney spears record in the dust or mayhap, stop some burgeoning, pubescent, records cold on their tracks, without really trying.
This is how humanity progresses, this is how hope is reborn, this is how
we're going to bring back good, rocking, authentic, inspiring music back into our airwaves & consciousness.
Nevermind that The People have suffered long enough, Nevermind that WE have endured. Nevermind that WE have survived.
Year, after year, after year, of blatant money making, teenage spewing, earsplitting,
bubblegum shrieking, pimple inducing, manufactured music.
Because now after long years of yearning, wishing, & dreaming
OUR prayers have finally been answered.

I believe in justice, equality, and the spirit of fairness. I believe when a man has earned his keep, then he should be rewarded for his efforts. As is the case with BO DA MAN, at his worst, he is still the best amongst all of them...
&
What’s more, he manages to give us something extra. something special. something real.
Something all the money in the world can't buy.
HE HAS MANAGED TO BRING THE MUSIC BACK TO THE PEOPLE.

He has managed to invoke the spirit of rock & roll and deliver it straight into your homes. He has captured the beauty, the freedom, the sadness, the humility
and everything else that gets lost in between the moment of thinking and speaking.
It's amazing how words often fail me, how many times I’ve tried and failed to say in words, in poems, exactly what I mean. After hours and hours of laboring, at the end of the day, I realize, that it is not what I meant to say… that’s not what I meant at all.
& Usually this is where I reach the point where I just give up, hit my head on the wall,
and just throw in the towel.
But in music..in music….
Just to hear a humming accompanied by a melody, or a simple phrase
uttered incoherently in a song, would be enough to take me there.
Because it's not just the words that I'm after in music, it's the essence....
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE ESSENCE.
Which I think the judges in American Idol fail to realize or just plainly refuse to acknowledge, because it would not be expedient for them or their chosen piggy bank to do so... I can name, names, but I don't want this to get ugly.

IT’S ALL VERY SIMPLE REALLY.
There's a reason why musicians are demigods & Us the non-singing,
non-instrument playing, non-rhythmic, folks aren't.
We are just simply mortal human beings.
It's because we are not in possession of this magic.
Like Prometheus, who would defy heaven and hell,
just to bring us the fire, so we could feel the warmth, and see in the dark.
So would real, authentic, musician... So would BO BICE....
Because he has done this time and time again in the past,
and continues to do so.


So I think I know now why this rocker dude has landed in American Idol.
Not so much for his benefit. But for us, the millions and millions of music loving folks that somewhere along the line has gotten confused, & lost a little bit of faith in music.
He is here, to remind us how glorious music can be, how you can find what
you’re looking for in music.
How music can save your life, if not at lease your eardrums’ sanity.
It’s amazing how after each and every performance by Bo, I’ve felt compelled
to know more about the song he’s sung and the person who wrote that song.
After Bo Bice sang Time in a Bottle, it pretty much time warped me back to my childhood, I swear after the first few notes I was stupefied into submission.

And now he does this song called VEHICLE which I have never heard before,
But Great God In Heaven You know I love it and will love it forever!
I know 70’s dance music in not really BO’s genre… but dammit he worked that song!!!!!!!! just to give you a glimpse of that man’s scope.

And guess who I have to thank for this newfound insanity, cough, cough, I meant serenity……. None other than….. BO BICE, thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing your music with us & slugging it out in American Idol. Know that all of your effort is not in vain,
Cause WE HEAR AND FEEL YR MUSIC…

THE COMPUTER ILLITERATE STRIKES AGAIN!

Just when I thought I’d given up on blogging.
Here I am on another blogging kingdom.
I hope it doesn’t create too much of a mess with my time.
Since I’ve decided that I’m gonna stay away from
interior decorating Ficasso style. (too time consuming)
I don’t care if I have the fugliest blog here, I’ve just randomly selected a lay-out.

Looks is over-rated. That was a joke by the way,
I knew Ficasso is spelt wid a p.
Besides I am here to write POETRY &

brow beat anyone who tries to sneer.
I plan to document the metamorphosis of my tiny soul
from a tiny budwhisper of a small rose to a giant roar of a queen LION splayed in the wilderness.


(ehem, ehem, I hope I didn’t make anyone puke with that one)

So let us begins shall we:

This one I submitted to Makata.…didn’t make it. They actually went with another two of my poems. But I have such high respect for Walt Whitman, that I just had to put it here. It gives me a luscious headache just reading his poems. To me his words are so profound and loaded with meaning. His voice is so inclusive, there's just something in it for everyone, from the ignoramus like myself, to the erudite, like my special set of invisible encyclopedia I like to call Jim. I think for most of us who write, poetry is a necessity. Not because we have a need to create or change the world with our visions, but because we lack the necessary faculty to understand the world in its own terms. There’s a huge gap between the external world and its ideas of living, and the space within my being which I occupy, poetry sorta serves as a mediator for my true self to emerge from this darkness. The only time I truly feel at one with the universe, or at ease with the idea of my creation is when I’m writing or have read an honest poem. Even though not many people have read my work, this is not really a hindrance to my freedom, I don’t need to be known. I just need to come out, from time to time.
Weird, I never meant to write any of this. I just wanted to be funny
Oh well, tama na ang da-da-da-da.

~~~~~~~~


this one i wrote when i was having a bad day, it’s not really a poem, more like a cry

for help. It’s in Filipino by the way, my native tongue.



SIGAW.

Gusto kong sumigaw. Sumigaw ng sumigaw hangang malasing ako sa kasisigaw. Tapos magtataka ang mga kapitbahay ko, kung bakit ako sumisigaw. Pero pagtatawanan ko lang sila. Dahil hindi nila alam kung bakit ako sumisigaw. Itatanong nila sa akin, nakakita ka ba ng halimaw?
Nakakita ka ba ng aswang?Nadaganan ka ba ng GIANT APARADOR?
O di naman ay nakatanglaw ng cute na baboy na may pink ribbon
sa neck? Sasabihin ko, OO- ikaw. Tapos aalis na siya na papadyak-padyak at umiiyak. Habang ako ay sumisigaw, sigaw lang ng sigaw.
Ako’y lumilipad sa kakasigaw, nagiging bahagharing sigaw.
Bumibilog ang buwan at nagtataglay ng pulag na liwanag
at puspos na pag-ibig habang ako ay sumisigaw.
Natatakpan ang ipo-ipong katahimikang lumalamon sa akin.
Madilim dito, madilim at ako ay punit-punit.
Ngunit ako’y nakatawa at sumisigaw.
Habang natutulog na mahimbing ako ay nananaginip.
Sumisigaw ako sa panaginip.

© em franco