Screaming Sanctimony



A condescending attitude is often mistaken as piety. Removing that illusion however, will reveal hypocrisy at its finest, the main reason Jesus reproached the Pharisees for being like whitewashed tombs that are beautiful in the outside but filled with dried bones and rotting flesh inside.

Now that paints an ugly picture especially when viewed from the outside. Because in as far as witnessing is concerned, nothing comes off as a surefire “turn off” than a hypocrite pretending to be a saint.

If we as Christians are to convert the gentiles and bring the wayward sheep of Israel back into the fold, we should instead come from a place of love.

How?

Recall the story of Mary Magdalene and Zacchaeus. Jesus did not cite the 10 commandments to condemn them right then and there of their sins, nor did He summon heaven’s fury to devour their wretched sinful souls. He instead showed love and mercy through forgiveness, as His standpoint which eventually led to their conversion.

Out of love came forth mercy and actions within the context of love.

But a condescending attitude is begotten from a sanctimonious “holier than thou” mindset. And that, is the exact opposite of our mission as children of God which we claim to be, which is to spread His message of love to a lost world.

Hara-Kiri



I rent my soul in atomic bits
     and ripped it to subatomic pieces

          before you
               execute it
                    yourself

I saved you all that trouble

     what you’ve been
          relegated to do

               by whatever or
                    whoever
                         only you know who

A Melancholia Writer's Delight



On a melancholic day,

Ordinary people: I hate this feeling!

“Blues” writer: (rubs both palms together) Man this is perfect! Now where do I begin…

Farewell, Kobe



What Kobe Bryant taught me:
  • Work your craft to perfection until someone hates you for being so damn good.
  • Loving your craft means committing your time and effort to it 100% of the time without making any fucking excuses!
Rest in peace idol.

Whores are Words, and Words are Whores


Some words
I used sparingly
others
I abused 
totally
But alas
despite of which
complete strangers 
their conclusion
have all become

I clothed them
in regal poetry
gave them purpose
through grand prose
which countless I’ve told

I, the maker 
accorded them
their place in the cosmos
in the known universe and beyond
ergo, I own them
and they are mine alone

But what a joke
the muse played on me
for the wholeness
I granted them
defined them not
Instead,
I got mocked.
For the pieces
defined the whole
which the whole
on them do not

As I established my kingdom
with them and their duty
to kiss my feet ever after
The whores were gone
prostituted themselves
in another’s hands

Don't Pray In Facebook!


Prayer should be done in a private room, inside a quiet mind or at church. Don’t pray in Facebook. You’re praying to a Higher Authority and not to your Facebook friends.

- (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Be careful what you nurture, for what you nurture grows. - (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant


I Love You – With No Strings Attached

Quote above by Antoine De Saint-Exupery

 I said I love you,
 Of course you heard it right;
 Am not playing yo-yo,
 In case you think I might…
  
 Once a girl had a dream -
 Of the world that she would conquer;
 Once a boy had a dream -
 Something far more loftier: the dreamer girl… 

Conversation vs Fishing, There’s a HUGE Difference


When initiating conversation with a friend, avoid dodging reciprocated questions such as ‘how are you’ and ‘what’s keeping you busy’. It is both impolite and downright annoying.

Remember, it’s a conversation you’re trying to have, not a tactical interrogation.

- (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

The Entitled


Entitled bitches and
Entitled pricks
What nasty li’l witches
Contending for the longest sticks

On Giving


"It isn’t giving all you’ve got if you don’t feel hollow afterwards."

- (The) Name's Not At All Relevant

Leaves of Autumn




I will whisper it
to the autumn leaves

I will tell them why
the trees slumbered in a lullaby
I will reveal to them
how all tears have gone dry
it was when
you promulgated my verdict:
“good bye”

It was still the sunshine’s reign
as I recall like 'twas but yesterday
but before I can brace my self
for that mortal dagger
driven to my chest
the chilling sun
and the freezing moon
started to sing a melancholic tune

Nurtured in the soft breeze’s caress
and nourished in dew
brought forth colors
that are changing in hue
for what seemed the start
of a colorful show
marked the end of the summer glow

what else is there to say
but to let the light leave with the day
and this darkness that had befall
be there to stay while bells they toll

I will whisper its dismal moan
to those in twigs still holding on
oblivious to the truth
that it won’t last for long

I will whisper it
to those caught in midair
as they drift farther and farther away
from their beloved they just left bare

I will whisper it
atop the mounded heap
which to earth
did terminally cede

fool’s show it is indeed
for the varied colors that abound
speaks loudly
of the end
without a sound

Reverend Joke



One day came good ole Reverend Father Joke
Grinned as he saw past some bloke
“Say son, I pray, give me some of that toke
For you see, my boy, I’m a bit broke.”

“Heaven have mercy for I almost choked!
Pardon Reverend, is this some kind of joke?”
“That’s my name alright” said ole Reverend Joke
With eyes closed sniffing the smoke.

Interruptions



It infuriates me
when I’m interrupted
while sculpting my poems,
that does not in anyway
translate into something tangible,
with my day job
that puts food on my table

- (The) Name's Not At All Relevant

Of Wives and Lovers



Here’s to our wives and lovers. May they never meet. Cheers!

“My wife met her already.”

Damn. Must’ve been awful.

“Nope. How can she confront herself?”

- (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Let me be the wind


Let me be the wind
that will whisper in your ear
“relax, it's me my dear”

Let me be the wind
that will pass by your cheeks
to give them a sweet light kiss

Let me be the wind
that will meet head-on your lips
as in love my fingers dip

Let me be the wind
that will sway your hair
and expose your shoulders bare

Let me be the wind
That will caress your thighs
And carry your scent
In the valleys and heights

Dealing with The Embodiments of Pure Evil in the Workplace

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of diabolical plots
and rhapsodic images
of your sweet affliction,
He manifested Himself
through reason
before anything
I envisioned
would irreversibly
come to fruition


I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of regrets
and abysmal sorrow
or that fiendish grin
and gratified puffs
at the sight of
a gasping prey
and the smell of blood,
I uttered a silent
wailing plea
Supplicated for restraint
within my inner sanctuaries
And stabbed my journal
‘til its blood filled the oceans
as it is tossed to and fro
by tempests and billows

Dawn

I want to devour
the soggy dawn
While the flowers
Are about
In their fullness bloom

Give me while it’s warm
The dawn’s luscious mush
Before the day
Gets it all wilted
Withered in the sun

The Curse of Blessings



What good is my art
if instead of
empathy
sympathy
care and 
concern,
condescendence
vainglory and 
mockery
come forth of which?


Is my quest
to be
stronger
wiser
intellectually extravagant
justified
if my eyes
forsook looking up
and espoused the
delectability of looking down?


Is the by-product of
enlightenment
the disdain for 
both ignorance
and the ignorant?


Shouldn’t it instead
beget forgiveness
and understanding
despite that 
some people
are unforgiving
of your luminance
that improved
their blur
into shadows?


- (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

The Better Me

As parents, let us not aim to see a mirrored reflection of ourselves in our children. Rather, let us aim to see in them a better version of ourselves.

- (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Dance to your own beat


Life is not about outmaneuvering others to get ahead of them, nor is it limiting and enslaving yourself to the moves of the majority. It’s about finding your own tune and getting in sync with that beat.

- (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Giving while expecting something in return is manipulation in disguise. - (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant


When The Language Guru Said "Don't Me"


The Ultimate Collision Course


In blinding speeds
and accelerations faster
than the speed of light
I orbit the innards
of a particle collider



Heedless




Pointless




Propelled by

the natural order of
who the hell knows
what 
or who



without warning

lo and behold
my quintessence
millions, billions, trillions of them
laid bare
right before mine
very eyes



Then it dawned on me

I got smashed into God!

Fans Club

Do I turn to
my crowd
when there is
no one else around
to turn to?


Of course


In those instances
        I always welcome


            my self with
                open
                    arms

In the Face of Adversity, Don’t Run Away from God. Run Into God

Adversity and conflict
isn't always
synonymous
to opportunity
It will forever be
a thorn
in my soul
Yet, that
bastard
has caused me
to not run away but
to run INTO
God

Sure there is adversity
in daily existence
that you need
to keep slugging with
in spite of
being bored
to death
And while
I am
busy living
I am also
busy getting myself
distracted
to make that
daily existence
bearable
at least

Nevertheless, there
is always something
to be thankful for:
sex
food
work
beautiful family
being fucking alive
and this art
that has become my
saving grace

But there
is something
special about those
nut-cracking moments:
You let loose of
your grasp
off yourself
and your advantages
both tangible and illusory
and find yourself
clinging instead
to the Rock of Ages
Only when you
do so
can you
tap the power
Power that
is greater than
anything earthly
or mortal
The kind of
power that
keeps the galaxies
afloat to light up
the vast depth
of nothingness

Adversity causes
one to
improvise
It yells at you
at the top of
it’s lungs
to get the
fuck out
of the ordinary
before you succumb
and watch the
best of you die
without seeing the
dawn break

But I haven’t
totally lost
yet
my sanity
by asking
fervently
for my
share of
perennial
uphill goings
just to
always experience
God’s grand
deliverance

With much
supplication
I ask that
I would instead meet
His
presence

everywhere

from highs and lows
and most especially
the mundane

Struggles of a minimalist who wishes to write extravagant poetry

The minimalist
Willingly calloused himself
Stripped off his senses
Scarce in words
As much as thoughts
Gets upset not with a
Few clothes
A few jeans
Or zero mobile data
Afraid he’ll be creatively bankrupted
By social media
Despite having revered as god
He has locked horns with minimalism
For poetry’s sake
Unfamiliar feelings he now writes
With inappropriate words
Of a child quivering before a dentist
The motocross rider as he somersaults
A lover whose tears from the raindrops you cannot tell
To be answered “yes” or “I do” by a lady
The things he shuns
To not let his feelings run
Stoicism rivalling that of Marcus Aurelius
A layer of rock
That take eons to wear
He then realized
He has flesh and blood
He can grin
And he can fuckin’ cry!
He’s not a machine gun
That eat bullets
And spew them who the hell knows
How much rpm
Now he aches to write poetry
Vivid and teeming with life
And the feelings he trained himself to abhor
The superfluous often thrown to the dogs
Like a whore
That will make him sore
With a red carpet and open arms
He now welcomes home
Albeit, he writes clumsily
A virgin lover in a quandary
Whether he’ll
Kiss her or fondle
Screws up his words, falters and all
Still he writes some more
For non other than he can fathom
It’s only poetry that will save his soul

Exasperations

Fuck you reality!
A middle finger you deserve
For preserving my dreams
In their ghostly silhouette
Fuck you dreams!
Damnation you deserve
For failure to coalesce
Slumbered in peace and pieces

In A Parallel Universe


In there you took notice,
In there you smiled;
In there you said "Yes!"
In there you said "I do…"

If only astrophysicists and cosmologists would uncover,
The wormhole from here to that realm,
Chocolates, red roses, my love so tender,
Care and affection fit for my queen I’d offer:

In there you speak, still mesmerized I'd listen;
With your whims I’d laugh out loud;
While your hormones surge and your feelings become a blur,
Which makes a love quarrel with me so enticing and gratifying,
On such days I’d just lock you in my arms,
And plant a kiss on your forehead,
If your mouth wont shut I’d kiss your lips;
I’ll know when you feel the blues,
No words are needed I’m there with you;
When you no longer heed your tummy’s call,
I’d take its place and remind you to get nourishment,
So you wont faint and I’ll worry not;
When you’re exhausted in chasing your dreams,
That you feel the need to stop and shed a tear,
I’d be the ears that will hear your silent screams,
A shoulder and pillow soaked with your fears
For locked in a quantum entanglement, our hearts and minds entwined;

With me you need not wear a mask prolonged
Need not always be staunch and strong
'Cause it’s the lovely and intelligent lady behind that I love and long

And when I die and be reborn in cosmic karma
I hope I’d wake up to that new era -

Where I am taking care of you
A world where I love you as much as now I do
And there you will love me too...

Saving Grace Synonym


Bitches

Bitch she was
She is
And always will be
In as much as I’d like to say:
“Bitch she may be
But there is a bitch
Far better than she
And her name is spelled
K.A.R.M.A”
But I’d rather invoke her not
For wishing another’s misfortune
Is never my lot
But it was only then that I realized
Bitches themselves
Bitch each other around

Come my love

Come my love
Spread your love
That I may enter
And bask in its warmth
Come my love
Indulge
Don’t hold back
Make haste
Before you get to know me
Before I get to know you
Before I get to know me

American Hotdog



American hotdog she has got
It’s what the other ladies have not
Hotdogs of different races
Australian, Hungarian, Italian
Canadian, British, or German
But the most famous of them all
Is the certified all-American

Never mind that these hotdogs are
Freckled
Speckled
With large tomatoes in the face
And who the hell knows where else

Even the gramps
Who has trouble getting up
Let alone keeping it up
They are completely irrelevant:
The stench of death reeking in him
Nor that he is 4 decades her senior

Scorn her as much as you like
With much gusto until you relinquish life
I’m warning you though
You’ve been long dead before you make her cry
Whatever drug she took that made her numb
Anesthesia of hardships
Sedated in BS or whatnot
She’ll cling to her hotdog
Until he runs out of fortune
And that, she’ll tell you
Is a valid reason:

“I got an American hotdog
You dirt-poor dicks
Whatever says my kababayans
I don’t give a shit
Aint gonna toil anymore
Gonna buy me an I-Phone
Premium bags, and shoes
Bear the coffin-dodger’s child I will
Gotta be laid in bed of cotton
Gotta let him fuck me
Till he passes out and die
Gotta suck him hard
Till he bleeds dry
Fuck true love
What can you get out of which
If your stomach is empty
And you can’t buy all your impulses
So what if he smells putrefied
So long as I lay in bed of greens”

Thus she clings on
To his horrid face
So long as he gives her
A queen’s privileges

The Old Man And His AM Radio


One old man
When he is around
He’d sit by the porch
A cup of tea in his hand
In an idle afternoon
While the scorching sun
Retires after burning rice paddies
Mountains, dirt roads, and faces
At times it leaves torrential rain
That reminds us of its promise
It’s sure to be back in the morning

But what I remember oh so vividly
That while he sips his bitter tea
He’s all ears on the stereo
Not on music stations
But tuned in on A.M radio

I didn’t understand
His penchant for the agony of twiddling thumbs
With the occasional curses
Murmurs, smirks, and grunts
About politics in all its
Nobility, hypocrisy, and bullshitry

It was a mystery how he could bear
Listening to news
On what transpired from within and without
And listening to the host
And repetitive commercials
Peddling lies and whatnot

But he didn’t mind
Just looked far away
With the all-familiar grin
What he labelled as circus
Worked out fine for him

Almost three decades passed
No longer do I see him
In the rain nor setting sun
Nor his hot cup of bitter tea
That cools him down
But something remained
Which transcended him and his life
As I sit with headsets on
To the AM radio tuned
Murmuring
Grunting
More generous in my cursing

Wisa

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