whenever my voice flings arrows
your way at a fiery pace,
read, discover there is that
something in me that dies to go gentle.
for when i viciously tangle
with you trying to throw
you off course, inside, i am raring
to cover you, take you, become
all of me fire and fluid.
when i try to lord it over, empowered,
it is because inside i am already
slave groveling ready to heed your bidding,
crawling waves lapping you up
sea shore hillocks sky
all the way up, all drool and drivel.
and when i insolently seek out
pulpits to mount my gospel truths,
i am really one humped question mark
thrashing about for your steadying light.
and when i try to light you up whole,
there is really a part of your flame
i would want extinguished
to die rekindled in me alone,
and when i am wind taking roots
in your solid ground, i am roots as well
ready to take flight upon your wings.
when i prance around proud in times square.
i am child carousing in the greener
fringes of the heart's final roosting.
read this idiolect,
read well, decode, detect,
and love me when i seem to hate.
NOTES from Ambit's Gambit:
Read Me as a love poem thrives on the tension built around a love/hate syndrome which becomes the vigorous thrusting, grovelling, thrashing, flowing, crawling, drooling that culminates in the “heart’s final roosting.” This love poem is a superior to Jose Garcia Villa’sPoem 40 (Centipede Poem) as an erotic exercise.
“Something begins in order to end: an adventure doesn’t let itself be extended; it achieves significance only through its death. Towards this death, which may also be my own, I am drawn irrevocably. Each moment appears only to bring on the moments after. To each moment I cling with all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable - and yet I would not lift a finger to prevent it from being annihilated.” © Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
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11.05.2010
10.06.2010
This Morning's LSS: Another Suitcase in Another Hall
Not particularly cheerful this morning. Must be the stress of sleepless nights trying my best to mop up a botched project - lots of blood shed, really. Robert and I have just about been bled dry. Time to move on then, hence the song.
9.20.2010
Filipino Tribal Minorities Bring Home The Gold
The Aetas, Mangyans, and Dumagats are considered minorities in the country, but from Thursday to Saturday last week they made the nation "major major" proud by bagging three golds, a silver, and four bronze medals in the first Southeast Asian Tribal Olympics.
Clad in their traditional G-strings and armed with hand crafted bows and arrows, spears and even blowpipes, the tribal athletes proudly showed off their medals from the recently concluded competition held at Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia.
The Philippine contingent bested fellow tribal athletes from 11 other ASEAN countries. They won medals in the archery, tree top archery, assault archery and blow pipe competitions. The athletes said they would have earned more medals had the scheduled games for running and spear throwing pushed through.
The two events were cancelled due to unfavorable weather.
Clad in their traditional G-strings and armed with hand crafted bows and arrows, spears and even blowpipes, the tribal athletes proudly showed off their medals from the recently concluded competition held at Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia.
The Philippine contingent bested fellow tribal athletes from 11 other ASEAN countries. They won medals in the archery, tree top archery, assault archery and blow pipe competitions. The athletes said they would have earned more medals had the scheduled games for running and spear throwing pushed through.
The two events were cancelled due to unfavorable weather.
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