lyrics: czyka
music: mao
Karma Trance
AM7 C#m5 DM7
You look at a mirror—
A broken reflection of a man
Scars your soul
Crimes you committed
Hearts youve bladed
Good deeds kept in debt
Came crashing in one go
Whats done can’t be undone
So just dance into the beat of the drum
Embrace the song of the sun
Let it go… let it come
Every image is mislead
You sigh, and create noise
Echoing a wish
For a second chance for choice
Feel the music in your palm
The melody is the balm
Dry the tears that drowns your lung
Breathe the bass baby
Be the symphony…be serenity
You and harmony is one
All else is gone
Whats done can’t be undone
So just dance into the beat of the drum
Embrace the song of the sun
Let it go… let it come
Booty Call
Gm7 CM9 Em* Dm*
Don’t say that I’m your muse
If your after for is only a matter of use
I ain’t no cheap drug baby
I’m not just any substance that you can abuse
Late last night you called me beautiful
We made all the stars fall ‘til dawn
But when I woke up you were gone
And then I realized…that it was just..
a booty call (2x) with second voice
Overnight passion
Hangover illusion
Overnight passion
Wakes an illusion
You treat me like a random number on your list
Your mere last alternative
But baby Im no sedative
Don't wanna be your whim
Overnight passion
Hangover illusion
Overnight passion
Wakes an illusion
Im singin this not for your pity
I just cant stand your infidelity
No I aint waiting for your return
Don’t ever think that youre hard to unlearn
Letting go is as easy as one two three
Numbing one’s heart is the key
Oh please find another to fill that hole
Coz Im an extra…ordinary soul
And I ain’t just…your booty call…
I’m like you, I’m like you, I’m like you (second voice?)
Overnight passion
Hangover illusion
Overnight passion
Wakes an illusion
I don’t need a temporary high
Id rather be forever dry
So don’t just ring me
when youre in the mood
for LOVE
Bootycall, bootycall
Ode to Sadness
C Bm A# AM
Life is a fallen chord on a fading song
A rotting relic of a dying metaphor
A star collapsing right into itself
I am a fainting mental image
In your stream of consciousness
Standing still, shadowless
Searching for a familiar gaze
Only puts me in an endless maze
Who can free me from my own chains
Love Aprhodisiac
(heartbeat)
Your tongue is like a stash of grass
Calms me in a puff
Your eyes shine like crystals
They make my soul alive
(Im addicted to you)
Oh baby let me have more of you
Coz every piece turns my being anew
You’re my aphrodisiac
My one and only love
Breathe out and I’ll suck
Oh bring me to the heavens above
Drop your tears in my vision
Let me fly, change my perception
I’ll melt your hands in my mouth
So I’ll have ecstasy without a bound
(Im addicted to you)
Oh baby let me have more of you
Coz every piece turns my being anew
You’re my aphrodisiac
My one and only love
Breathe out and I’ll suck
Oh bring me to the heavens above
You turn lust to love
Your burn my memory of pain
My body and soul you can all have
Let me take you like a drug
Friday, November 27, 2009
implosions
suffering 'til unfeeling
transcendence, the child's dream of flying
happiness, the beams of the moon
where is he who can share this with me?
sophia as the last strand of sanity
transcendence, the child's dream of flying
happiness, the beams of the moon
where is he who can share this with me?
sophia as the last strand of sanity
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Poems in LRT Removed
I finally had the opportunity to go out again last night after a year of just being at the confines of the home. Martin was invited to jam in an open drums session in Tomato Bomb, and so we went.
I was so "czyked" to ride the LRT again because I missed the poems posted on top of the LRT windows--"mga berso sa metro". Can't help but love them! In the midst of the city's restless hustle and bustle, I am put into a solemn pause when I read these verses. It makes a humdrum of a journey meditative, meaningful. But, to my surprise and utter disappointment, when I stepped inside the LRT and looked above, I saw Anne Curtis inviting me to drink GIN. My poems are all gone! It was replaced by wallet-ripping, soul-snatching ads!
I always thought that whoever conceived the idea of putting poems in the LRT was genius! I don't know but there's something about trains that makes me ponder about life. There was even a time when I spent a day just riding the MRT, with nowhere to go, no itinerary whatsoever, just sat there with my tickler, observing, writing, making verses out of the people's various facial expressions, listening to gossips and colloquial conversations, musing about urban life--searching for the poetry in the prose of everyday.
I have this rather odd idea that I have a connection with the genius who thought of placing the poems in the LRT. Not romantic alright. I think we have the same hunger. Hunger for the soul. Hunger to see the being breathing underneath the mundane, to see it raw, stripped of the city's artificiality. And we both want everyone to be like us, hungry as hell. That's why he placed the poems there, I suppose, in an attempt to spread the hunger.
But what now, the genius became a sellout? Well, I shouldn't jump to any conclusions. Most probably it was not his idea to replace the poems.
Really sad about what happened. A hope for change just turned into dust.
Again.
I was so "czyked" to ride the LRT again because I missed the poems posted on top of the LRT windows--"mga berso sa metro". Can't help but love them! In the midst of the city's restless hustle and bustle, I am put into a solemn pause when I read these verses. It makes a humdrum of a journey meditative, meaningful. But, to my surprise and utter disappointment, when I stepped inside the LRT and looked above, I saw Anne Curtis inviting me to drink GIN. My poems are all gone! It was replaced by wallet-ripping, soul-snatching ads!
I always thought that whoever conceived the idea of putting poems in the LRT was genius! I don't know but there's something about trains that makes me ponder about life. There was even a time when I spent a day just riding the MRT, with nowhere to go, no itinerary whatsoever, just sat there with my tickler, observing, writing, making verses out of the people's various facial expressions, listening to gossips and colloquial conversations, musing about urban life--searching for the poetry in the prose of everyday.
I have this rather odd idea that I have a connection with the genius who thought of placing the poems in the LRT. Not romantic alright. I think we have the same hunger. Hunger for the soul. Hunger to see the being breathing underneath the mundane, to see it raw, stripped of the city's artificiality. And we both want everyone to be like us, hungry as hell. That's why he placed the poems there, I suppose, in an attempt to spread the hunger.
But what now, the genius became a sellout? Well, I shouldn't jump to any conclusions. Most probably it was not his idea to replace the poems.
Really sad about what happened. A hope for change just turned into dust.
Again.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
For the "Intellectuals"
funny how some people spend half of their lives philosophizing about life, lulling themselves with the theories of science, when the answer to the ever elusive meaning of life lies somewhere else. not sure where that is, really. i just think we should learn how to accept that some things in life shouldn't be explained or else it will lose its beauty. Sophia taught me that.
So, stop. pls stop that intellectual masturbation.
So, stop. pls stop that intellectual masturbation.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Story in Progress
There's a story floating in my head for the longest time now. Its conception happened two years ago, I think. I promise myself that from now on I'll be keeping track of my ideas for this story in this blog.
Random thoughts:
-"the basis of identity is memory."--this will definitely be one of the themes of my story.
-"The dew of life came rushing in my bloodstream, reviving my soul anew. It was like the first time, and he the first who ever entered my world. I thought to myself, this must be thing they call freedom"-- I want to put this line there somewhere. (hehe)
- I need inspiration. I can't start this story. every thought is random and without sense if not placed in the bigger picture
Random thoughts:
-"the basis of identity is memory."--this will definitely be one of the themes of my story.
-"The dew of life came rushing in my bloodstream, reviving my soul anew. It was like the first time, and he the first who ever entered my world. I thought to myself, this must be thing they call freedom"-- I want to put this line there somewhere. (hehe)
- I need inspiration. I can't start this story. every thought is random and without sense if not placed in the bigger picture
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
A Spoonful of Sugar
one of my valuable possession is missing. just left it beside the sink and now its gone. i don't know who has it, or how and why was it taken, the point is, it's gone. it's the free tumbler you get when you buy a large Zagu. martin gave it to me when he was still courting me. i have a brain-ripping hung over that time. then he asked me what do i want. i told him that i want something that can end the mind-killing migraine I have. i don't want food for I also felt nauseous. i told him that i want a plain water flavored Zagu. and of course, he said that they doesn't serve that.
but, lo and behold, after fifteen minutes, I was drinking a water flavored Zagu. water slurpy. crushed ice half melted.
he said that he'll give everything that i want and need.
bolero talaga.
but it works all the time. (hehe)
but, lo and behold, after fifteen minutes, I was drinking a water flavored Zagu. water slurpy. crushed ice half melted.
he said that he'll give everything that i want and need.
bolero talaga.
but it works all the time. (hehe)
Monday, November 9, 2009
NO TV FOR SOPHIA
My desire not to let Sophia watch TV until she's seven grows stronger everyday. TV corrupts the mind. Aside from its unfiltered content that could teach my baby violence and malice at an early age, the constant and abrupt shifts of ideas in TV makes the mind loose its thinking unity. The TV juxtaposes too many unrelated ideas in a small period of time that can thereby damage the ability of children to make sense out of what they perceive. It is also proven that TV decreases our ability to concentrate. It makes us hyperactive, doing multiple things at the same time, not being content on a single activity--another effect of the ever-changing flashes of thought in TV. Furthermore, I want reading or any form of art to be Sophie's main source of leisure, not TV (Please).
But my mom is against this. She told me that I have to let Sophia watch TV. And she even went to say that when I was a child I loved watching TV and I grew up smart.
NOT. In truth, I had a hard time weaving ideas in college. Coherency was my weakness. A minute of reading makes me sleep. I was only good at math because it doesn't require too much mulling and attention. You get your results fast. But I was taking up Humanities. So obviously, absolutely everything requires time and attention to details. I only survived because I practiced and practiced. I don't remember the last time I opened the TV when I entered college. I don't even know Paris Hilton until she was discussed as the most popular Hollywood hedonist in one of my Philo subjects.
So, what do I do now? I don't want to disobey my mom, as that will really upset her. But at the same time, I want the best for Sophie.
Well, I should just probably let Sophie watch full-length films. No brain damaging pop-out commercials. Plus I get to filter the content of these films. (This will also save me money because Sophia will not be a consumerist baby, those whose first words are "buy me that barbie I saw on TV")
When she gets to the age of reason, she could argue about what she like. She could watch TV if she wants to, but I'll still be beside her to guide her. We'll discuss what she watched after even. But before that, I am the boss. (hehe)
PS:
Saw this article about the effect of computer and surfing to the human brain. It inspired me to write this article. (http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/google)
But my mom is against this. She told me that I have to let Sophia watch TV. And she even went to say that when I was a child I loved watching TV and I grew up smart.
NOT. In truth, I had a hard time weaving ideas in college. Coherency was my weakness. A minute of reading makes me sleep. I was only good at math because it doesn't require too much mulling and attention. You get your results fast. But I was taking up Humanities. So obviously, absolutely everything requires time and attention to details. I only survived because I practiced and practiced. I don't remember the last time I opened the TV when I entered college. I don't even know Paris Hilton until she was discussed as the most popular Hollywood hedonist in one of my Philo subjects.
So, what do I do now? I don't want to disobey my mom, as that will really upset her. But at the same time, I want the best for Sophie.
Well, I should just probably let Sophie watch full-length films. No brain damaging pop-out commercials. Plus I get to filter the content of these films. (This will also save me money because Sophia will not be a consumerist baby, those whose first words are "buy me that barbie I saw on TV")
When she gets to the age of reason, she could argue about what she like. She could watch TV if she wants to, but I'll still be beside her to guide her. We'll discuss what she watched after even. But before that, I am the boss. (hehe)
PS:
Saw this article about the effect of computer and surfing to the human brain. It inspired me to write this article. (http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/google)
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