tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103016962024-03-08T00:31:12.054+00:00Phil's perspectiveThink it. Speak it.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-76594436541929339512019-04-29T14:10:00.001+01:002019-04-29T14:10:09.527+01:00Ode to ThanosOur Thanos, who art in ashes, <br />shivery be thy name<br />thy garden come<br />thy snapping be done<br />on Earth as it is in Xandar.<br />Give us our daily revenge,<br />and forgive us our time travelling,<br />as we forgive those who time travel against us;<br />and lead us not into obesity,<br />but deliver us from Marvel. Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-68398487260633126812018-01-10T11:20:00.001+00:002018-01-12T14:51:50.972+00:003:23<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">You’re still here. The
unassuming guest in my head. The stranger turned friend that broadened my mind.
The wielder of curls the colour of fire, passion and warmth. The one I did not
know existed but now rattles my thoughts. The keeper of time, time she can’t control, time that doesn’t stop. Not for me. Not for her. Never for us. All
saints whisper the untold stories of tender moments and countless touches. I
miss your reflection, not because it personifies my strengths but reminds me I’m
human. Time, the ever present foe of careless fools and forbidden acts. 575 reasons
yes. Day into night. Stranger into friend.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-43531603650910887622018-01-10T09:42:00.002+00:002018-01-10T09:42:31.092+00:00❚❚<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">Holding
onto nothing is far easier than letting go of something.</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-29100625050918190202016-01-31T22:22:00.002+00:002018-01-12T14:56:08.869+00:00Absence<div style="text-align: justify;">
I love the dark. Its deafening silence has a way of binding my lost and terrifying soul into a single chaotic source of earthly delight. I don’t fear the night. I feed off it like a famished anti-social creature. The light cripples my eyes and enhances all my flaws and scars – 31 years worth of successfully hidden secrets of lust and over – yet underachieved - dreams. I don’t fear life, nor its end. I fear not being remembered for the being I personify. I fear that others may see me as the prey and not the devastating predator I so meticulously conceived in my mind. I am the downward spiraling saboteur of my existence. The screenplay scribbler of my bittersweet plot. The undercover spy of fate. The spiritual proverbial anti-christ of temptation. I am the word shaper of denial and the shameful master of thought and indecent pleasure. I am the constant high of smokeless dawns and the drunk of boozless sighs. I am and I persist, the ticking time bomb of conquest and defeat. Fear isn’t the echo of failure and powerless conformity, it is the humble soundtrack of mankind’s endless search for the building blocks of time. Without fear I would not feel the sugar rush of excitement nor the liberation of risk. Fear makes me live like a careless infant. Fear runs through my veins and overflows my immunity. It keeps me alert and suspicious and cunning. Fear is the absence of light – the element that reveals my scars and transparent flaws.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am the son of the dark and the raged offspring of mother fear.
</div>
Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-61176177614904785312013-04-08T16:26:00.000+01:002016-02-01T00:12:58.117+00:00Coin Flip<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">What’s the difference between a winner and a loser? As puzzling
as it may seem, it’s probably a matter of support. Not the random kind your
mother or a sympathetic aunt gives just to keep you hoping on something magical
and inaccessible but the real meaningful words of affirmation cast in knowledge
and rationality. Nothing is as mind-blocking as being motivated into something
you’re not meant to do, something others envision you to become or even
something you utterly believe you’re meant to achieve but aren’t. True wisdom
comes from trusting in fate. As unoriginal as it may sound, if it’s meant to be
there’s no phenom, freak of nature or mystical power that will keep you from
reaching your goal. It's all a matter of time.</span></div>
Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-60419954010465152602010-02-04T09:43:00.001+00:002010-02-04T09:45:34.738+00:00Breakdown<div style="text-align: justify;">I just woke up this morning with a heavy need to burst into tears. For no apparent reason, I feel lonelier than I have in quite a long time. Nothing’s really going wrong with my life at the moment, though. The job’s streaming in some decent income; I’ve been entangled with one of the most kind-hearted girls I’ve ever met, and life doesn’t seem to be half as bad as the bill made it out to be. Despite my presumably sane state of mind, I feel empty.<br />Maybe it’s to do with loving someone immensely, but being away from her for the good part of six months. It might also be the fact that my professional future is still undetermined, or maybe the fact that I’m just me.<br />Nevertheless, I feel really hateful today. I’d comfortably beat someone unconscious or talk them out of their own stupidity. I’d also jump off a building or push the trigger of any firearm in my direction. But I lack the guts to take the final step, the killing blow. For some reason, I still believe in living and the torture and heartbreak it brings. For some reason I still hope everything will turn out just fine, that love will endure and that that money will suffice.<br />I believe in you, the happiness you bring me, and I’ll try to forget the times you carelessly break my heart. I’ll do all this because I believe in something more, I believe in insanity, at least until I man up and dive to death.</div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-29337628826007639872009-10-29T10:31:00.004+00:002009-11-03T10:03:53.848+00:00EvasionWalking through the township of my mortal soul<br />Dragging all the heartache that rendered me once whole<br />Shacks of beating rhythms and undying words<br />Surrendered in the hollow of your gentle verbs<br /><br />Your silence in enriching but so far apart<br />My illness of occasion brings the need to start<br />If the greed of lust and glory conquers my domain<br />Then broken scraps of laughter must also remain<br /><br />Time is being helpful in my last resort<br />Day to day I wither from your grave support<br />May I speak the words that dangle to my throat?<br />May I fill the blanks in your loving note?<br /><br />Keep your heart adrift and I will follow through<br />Every single spotlight leads me right to you<br />Angel of my daydreams and my blazing star<br />Think of me in reason and I’ll never be too farPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-91547169006166385672009-10-15T16:51:00.000+01:002009-10-15T16:52:04.731+01:00Big MouthDo you ever get the feeling that you talk too much?<br />That everything you do keeps you out of touch<br />When you link it out first and you ponder it through<br />I’ll promise you now it won’t leave you in the blue<br /><br />When you stare at that girl every second of every day<br />But you think it over and you don’t know what to say<br />You just dream of her and it’s so real that it hurts<br />Then why is it so hard to go right ahead and flirt<br /><br />Oh I wish I had a big mouth, a cheap mouth, maybe that would work<br />I would blab it out, tare it out, I might just need a perk<br />All the the big mouths I know finally get the girl<br />But I’m a small mouth boy and I’m just left out in a twirl<br /><br />I bought a guitar at a pawn shop, cost me half a buck<br />Almost gave up and threw up when they said that I suck<br />But I kept on playing like a loveless fool<br />Got me in and out of trouble, hardly ever went to school<br /><br />I’ve got a gig now, a show now, and they all scream my name<br />But she’s not there, she’s not here, talk about a shame<br />I stress no longer ´cause I’m jamming all the place<br />Can’t believe that back in the day I was lost in outerspace<br /><br />I might have a small mouth, a tight mouth but I’m still ok<br />I don’t talk, I don’t smile, nothing left to say<br />But now you’re here, right here, and that’s just how we’ll be<br />She’s a big mouth girl, who did the talking for mePhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-20869861263820374392009-10-07T11:34:00.001+01:002009-10-07T11:37:56.260+01:00Alas, a bad day<div style="text-align: justify;">It's official, I'm having one of those moody blues. As a matter of fact, I can't recall the last time I've been so... down. I’m not feeling suicidal or mad, or even violent, just depressed without no apparent reason or effect. I’m just going to keep on writing senselessly because experience has taught me that this is by far the best form of therapy. It’s been a long time since I’ve written on this blog and most of you have probably thought that I was either dead or missing. The biggest news is that I’m working and enjoying every second of it. I’m single and quite happy about it and the freedom that comes attached. I had forgotten how inspiring it is not to have to answer to your “soulmate” and carry on with countless fights and jelousy streaks. On the other hand, I miss the cuddling the ludacris words, the gestures and the plain pointlessness of one in love. In a line, I’m the most self-confident chap you’ll ever meet, however I still haven’t got a hang of how feelings work. I hate repeating myself and it’s something that I’ve regretably gotten accostumed to. This post is going nowhere and we all know it. It’s just been a tough morning, but rest assured, I won’t be ressurecting any alter-ego MALE VALUES sequel. Pardon my monologue and my depressing ways. Tomorrow might be a better day, but for now, sad times call for rainy weather. It’s a pity the sun is shining outside.</div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-70746102374462339222009-07-28T21:36:00.002+01:002009-07-28T21:37:10.110+01:00Missing That MissyIt starts out like any ordinary track<br />A daydream boy writing hard down on his back<br />But this no name boy had it filling up inside<br />Didn't spit it out 'cause they'd think that he had lied<br /><br />Like any ordinary song there had to be a girl<br />Sweet as can be she had her hair up in a twirl<br />She smiles at him makes his roof shake off it's place<br />Clumsy as can be the boy was nothing but disgrace<br /><br />He knew her for years but had never seen her smile<br />Just didn't see her like the way he did that night<br />Saying he doesn't miss her would be nothing but denial<br />Pretending not to care just didn't nearly seem that right<br /><br />'Cause he's missing that missy, never thought that he would fall again<br />'Cause he's missing that missy, staring at her in that way<br />'Cause he's missing that missy, he's drowning inside, under the tide<br />'Cause he's missing that missy, and that missy is you<br /><br />On that ordinary day he got the guts and walked right to her<br />Didn't know what to say though he knew it didn't matter<br />Stared her straight in the eyes, she smiled again, her halo lit<br />He didn't know what to say, he messed up again, his brain just split<br /><br />But he said<br /><br />'Cause I'm missing that missy, never thought that I would fall again<br />'Cause I'm missing that missy, staring at you in that way<br />'Cause I'm missing that missy, I'm drowning inside, under the tide<br />'Cause I'm missing that missy, and that missy is youPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-77609109189650753282009-07-28T21:36:00.001+01:002009-07-28T21:36:48.073+01:00PhoenixYour light is blinding and so is your flair<br />I try my best but I still have to stare<br />You struck me so, night straight to day<br />How can a friend be reborn in this way?<br /><br />Friendship and love are crossroads apart<br />Romance like this reluctant to start<br />I feel something new and blissful in you<br />Enfatuation apart, should it be true?<br /><br />If this path leads to you and the comfort you bring<br />I shall quench my thirst and my laughter to sing<br />Praise to the Phoenix, Afrodite of madness<br />Heal all my wounds and deliver me from sadnessPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-73013106458827147552009-07-28T21:35:00.000+01:002009-07-28T21:36:24.079+01:00SecrecyAm I binding with your gentle grace<br />Or lingering on your grave embrace<br />Am I dreaming on while life goes by<br />Or fooling on another sweet lie<br /><br />Is life this way for the fate of some<br />Or is my sorrow a taste of to come<br />Is love a curse I must endure<br />Or a relieving omen I must secure<br /><br />For to feel a man in vain must face<br />Another ache of the mind one cannot trace<br />Emotion dead and out of sight<br />Love no more I say out of spitePhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-82710355825540661212009-01-02T19:44:00.002+00:002009-01-02T19:48:32.514+00:00The New Year has just arrived and with it comes innovation.<br /><br />Soon I'll be creating my DIGIFOLIO, where you can see what I've been up to instead of writing!<br /><br />I hope you all enjoy it, and above all, spread the news!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://philpintoportfolio.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">CLICK HERE TO VISIT!</span></span></a>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1168536156827694782007-01-11T17:21:00.000+00:002007-01-11T17:24:22.930+00:00Road To Infatuation<div align="justify">- I’ve had enough. I can’t take it anymore! – those were the words Nathan had hoped never to hear since the day he fell in love with Jane, a small town country girl he had met in a gas station diner six months earlier. Jane was the kind of girl you fell in love with from the very moment you set eyes on her. In fact, some say that if there ever was a more innocent glance, it couldn’t be found in this Universe. Every time the radio played Van Morrison, it was clear to all that Jane was that same brown eyed girl.<br />Little did Nathan know that on the very night his pick-up truck broke down in a remote town near Nashville, he was about to meet the woman that would make it all worth while. Nath was the type of guy that made “what you see is what you get” seem like the most irrational quote ever versed. It was true that he was a natural introvert, but most will tell you that you could hardly meet a nicer “dude”. That was probably the main reason he always ended up drunk in practically any place you could imagine. He always helped a friend in need, only to have doors slammed in his face, time and time again, when it came their turn to give. It seemed like Karma had a grudge on Nathan, and that drastically came down to love.<br />As soon as they saw each other, Jane and Nathan knew that there had to be something more. It was like their minds had taken control of the instant and feared no kind of rejection whatsoever. Nathan had been toyed by a cheeky red-head, who failed to mention her long time boyfriend, for months. Jane had dated a worthless, stone-hearted accountant who betrayed her at first chance. It made sense to both that things couldn’t possibly get any worse than that. And it didn’t. They fell for each other almost as instinctively as they had met. Time passed and slowly, but surely, they overcame any feelings they might still have had for their former partners. The day Jane told Nathan she loved him was surely the most warm hearted day of his life.<br />The wheels on Jane’s spotless Ford swerved into the empty streets with an intoxicating scent of rubber. Nathan was his own best friend again. He somehow knew that he had lost her for good. He pondered on what he might have done wrong, but he just couldn’t figure it out. All that he hoped for was that she never went back to the bastard she had cared for before. Once again Nathan Rosales was alone, all but him and his dead father’s rifle. </div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1165519999206380492006-12-07T19:28:00.000+00:002006-12-07T19:34:30.316+00:00Rainy Days Within<div align="justify">“Life is surely the greatest and most drastic of gifts”, that’s what Daniel told his son on that late September fishing trip they used to take every year. At first, Jake looked up at his old man in clueless awe. Had he measured those words 12 years earlier, then maybe he would have taken his father into more consideration before his prostate succumbed to the infestation of bacteria caused by years of neglect. Looking through his penthouse window in downtown Chicago, Jake watched the rain shatter down into the local park causing the newly placed soil to gather into muddy patches while he took a sip of his favourite Irish whiskey. He could almost imagine the stain it would leave on his brand-new Indian tribal rug, had he taken exactly seven minutes longer at the office. Mr. Du Randt, as they called him with the laid back yet clumsy English accent only Americans can so well portray, was born into a middle class family in the suburbs of the city of Johannesburg in South Africa. He was raised as an Afrikaans speaker, however, foreseeing the need of a good education, Daniel Du Randt sent his second son to an all English school in the outskirts of South Hills. He battled with the culture shock, but never betrayed Rugby over Soccer. “You can kill a South African, but you can never take away his love for the game of gentlemen that is Rugby”. He can still hear his father’s voice every time he remembers these words. At that moment it started to hail. Despite being in the city of the Sears Tower for over a decade, he had never gotten used to the ever unpredictable climate that is Chicago. He stared at his watch. It read 3:26 pm. Only then did he remember that even 500 dollar chrome watches need to have their batteries changed at one point. He took off his shoes and gapped at his tie. Back in Africa, jeans and t-shirts were common clothing. Here in the land of opportunity, such an audacious choice of fabric was enough to label you a “thug”. He fell into the seductive embrace of his armchair. This was the closest he had ever been to affection. Being filthy rich got him luxurious one night stands with some of the cities finest, but never caring. The only real satisfaction came from those lonely Friday nights when he self-gratified himself into a climax of ecstasy. Yet again he poured a glass of Eire’s greatest export, drank it down and felt sorry for himself. Minutes later Jake was in a deep sleep. He knew that his head would feel like crap in the morning, but, at that instant, all that mattered was the emptiness of heart it brought him. Silence fell over those amber walls. Just another day in the life of Jacob Du Randt – business tycoon.</div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1159909055260305642006-10-03T21:48:00.000+01:002006-10-03T21:57:35.280+01:00Wake Up To The MigrainBorn in August years ago<br />Bound for Africa, I miss you so<br />Lived to the edge from night 'till day<br />Cursed all those fuckers, won't they go away?<br /><br />Mind in Mach Three from the age of ten<br />Scribbled and mumbled with my blue ink pen<br />Dreamed in frames, it took my pain forever<br />Life over love, my heart whole for never<br /><br />Friends are the base of any survival<br />After that chill my soul needs revival<br />I'm up for the drugs that money can buy<br />Cash ain't an issue when it passes you by<br /><br />A blue summers dream of candy and rum<br />Drought in the mind of the deaf and the dumb<br />God be my staff of courage and might<br />May he make me brave when I miss you so tight.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1158958620568502282006-09-22T21:55:00.000+01:002006-09-22T22:18:07.006+01:00From AboveYet another text dated 2002, much better than the last.<br /><br />I have been this way,<br />Since that longful day,<br />Where alone ‘till then,<br />I’ve lived again.<br /><br />Her face smooth as silk,<br />Her eyes bright as pearls,<br />She seemed like a goddess,<br />Who came down to judge.<br /><br />To me she came with all her beauty,<br />By heaven above may she show mercy!<br />What a splendid sight has come to me,<br />Will I now learn to be free?<br /><br />Or is being free what I now see,<br />It seems to me like it must be,<br />The soul that meets mine,<br />A perfect set.<br /><br />To my surprise,<br />Looks don’t despise,<br />And her voice was to,<br />Of sweet melody.<br /><br />If this is love,<br />Then take me in!<br />I want to feel this way forever!<br />You’re my goddess,<br />Make me your slave,<br />Everything in you is perfect,<br />Including thy name,<br />8 linked letters,<br />Started thy beauty.<br /><br />Whom I now wish all night,<br />Despite the distance,<br />You feel near,<br />Despite the difference,<br />I will not fear.<br /><br />If this is love,<br />Then fill me deep,<br />And do not let go,<br />For I need you so.<br /><br />And when I see you again<br />The wolf will meet the saint,<br />We shall become one,<br />In the grasp of a memory.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1158958498495604282006-09-22T21:52:00.000+01:002006-10-16T13:22:03.523+01:00SearchingI was browsing my pc and found this text I wrote back in 2002. I know the language is pretty comun but at least you can all see how crappy I used to write! cheers to all.<br /><br /><div align="justify">Time goes by in such a hurry, without a change in sight. Monotonous. Same people, same views, same mentalities, same stupidity… Breaking free for most is easy, but for me it’s a complete struggle. Romeo and Juliet, what a strange sight, for Romeo says that parting is such sweet sorrow, whilst to me parting means never look back, a new life, a new chance to show my worth, to be admired. There is just one difference: Romeo had someone to drag him close while I must seek other seas, in search of a fish in thy immense variety, and then, when that fish comes, the bait must be right, and my net must be strong, so she may hold. Here I am nothing, there I must go, in search of what I’m looking for. Love is found in every corner, but is it pure? I think not … Love apart from talent, ambition against pure caring. The world is wide, Copernican once said, but will it hold when the distance widens? </div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1158873965662525522006-09-21T22:25:00.000+01:002006-09-21T22:26:05.676+01:00Five Leaf Clover<div align="justify">Mamma always told me that the best things in life are free. Quite honestly, I don’t think that anything is free anymore, no matter the circumstance. I just got back from a three day camping trip in the middle of nowhere. I slept in a tent, while having my back battered by rocks, I had some of my buds around, I had fresh air, booze and complete silence, which made me more stressed out than ever. Even our meter long food bill seemed ironically miniscule when compared to the hunger in our souls. Even though no one spoke of it, we all had made a silent pact, a promise to ourselves that we were there to break free from the manic garden of delight that is living a dream while being awake. We were the most recent contenders of survivor à la Madeira. Our goal: live life to the edge. Well, maybe that wasn’t their objective, but it sure was mine. I’ve given up on so much since high school. Drama class opened my eyes to something new, to characters, to different lives, to a new me, far from the one I had learnt to admire and disgrace. I have learnt that life is too short for hours of work books and despicable theories created by the serendipity of sexless French assholes wanting to be remembered. I wanted to make the most of those three days. I wanted to meditate and find my tranquil garden. I thought that by being a daredevil I would be leaving the sin of caring behind by placing my most recently found virtue in its place – risk. I hardly ate, I drank like there was no tomorrow and I swam in near freezing water, inches from hypothermia. What for? For liberation. For freedom. For life without love! I have found a cure for everything. From memory loss to heartburn to sexual urge to insomnia. All but one. Feelings. I have no antidote for that. No snake venom is stronger than love. Nothing is quite as addictive. Nothing is quite as sweet. Nothing is quite as sour. No matter how cured I want to be or how much I fool myself into thinking I am, it’s going to take me a while to forget the girl from my dreams. Not the girl of my dreams but the girl IN my dreams. My script is almost complete. I’ve still to pick a title, a location and a purpose. The cast is half full, all but the lead star. The muse. The faceless stranger. The angel of my nightmares. The uptown girl with the girl next door smile. I guess I’m not in a hurry. I know that I’m just a fool with an imagination. I’m all but a miracle worker. No one is but God. He created me, blessed me and damned me. He knows best. I will never understand why.</div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1158611722921244462006-09-18T21:35:00.000+01:002006-09-18T21:35:22.936+01:00Frame KillerI left school, tried to be a Director<br />I wanted to go out, be an infector<br />The short-length movies that I once made<br />With the camcorder that my dad had paid<br /><br />I shot anything that I could see<br />Almost got a fit when they captured me<br />The thrills and spills of the blind<br />Unedited hours in my mind<br /><br />Parties on Hollywood Boulevard<br />I finally have a Rover in the yard<br />Friends have come, or so I thought<br />Girls wanna have me, my souls been bought<br /><br />I’m the film star, I’m the Director<br />I’m the writer, I’m Hannibal Lecter<br />I’m the poet, I’m the fool<br />I’m the dreamer, who the hell made up this rule?<br /><br />I don’t drink ‘cause it’s like a whore<br />I don’t smoke ‘cause it’s all a bore<br />I don’t take dope ‘cause I ain’t the star<br />Even if I tried I wouldn’t get too far<br /><br />Gotta make it, gonna be needed<br />Gonna be the hero, be top ten seeded<br />Fuck society’s hypocrisy<br />You’ll never get the best of me!Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1157577523072429562006-09-06T22:18:00.000+01:002006-09-06T22:18:43.083+01:00Safe Passage<div align="justify">Dead end. I can hardly believe it. A month long walk has come to an unfortunate conclusion. Despite the path’s bumpiness and uncertainty I had managed to surpass all my hardship. Until now. A solid wall of brick and steel rises ahead of me now, staring down at this pitiful communication scholar. Engineering has always enjoyed the honour of being overrated. Once again that preconception has been proven right. Boat trips in the Ocean, beverage under the moonlight and bittersweet rimes were just too great a temptation. If I were Adam then I have betrayed mankind from the very beginning. She’s Eve, Juliet, Cleopatra, Guinevere, Sleeping Beauty and Helen of Troy all wrapped into an average height, average beauty girl. In fact, she’s like the girl next door. At least that’s what she seemed to be at first glance, at first touch and at first smile. Emerald eyes mesmerized me. I succumbed to her grace. The kiss of all but mutual true love enslaved the soul of Phil, the mortal. This would sound like brilliance if I were writing in platonic 16th century. But I’m not. In the early 21st love is like drinking cold coffee or hot beer while wearing a fur coat in the Kalahari – extreme. A blazing 33ºC sun is burning my neck as I write my most recent confession. Everything is nothing. Hot is cold, sweet is sour but love is still love. Her face is the desktop in my mind and my screensaver is 30 days worth of poetry in motion. Rebooting only lasts about a minute before it loads yet again. Formatting is password protected. My instant messenger doesn’t light up to her smileys anymore. She is gone. Not for good but gone. In a week she heads back to the city of the Tagus where a careless boffin awaits her with open arms. On that day my system will hibernate indefinitely. In time we will meet again. Until then I will treat my wounds with patience and caring. If I will be there when she realizes what I was worth, no one knows, but of one thing I’m sure – we were at the right place at the right time but in the wrong relationship. Go in peace my favourite mistake. God speed and may life be fair. At least to you.</div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1157494780963276792006-09-05T23:18:00.000+01:002006-09-24T21:58:08.503+01:00GoofballHi, I think we’ve met<br />Right about now the clock is set<br />Tired minds and hopeless fate<br />Found that out on our very first date<br /><br />I had my tie, poker dot red<br />Nothing but a jackass, your friend had said<br />My drumsticks roof up on Crash<br />Air Guitar played by a guy named Slash<br /><br />But our sound is there<br />My heart is bare<br />Can’t you see it girl<br /><br />In the skate park bumping on the half pipe<br />On the camping trip walking on the wrong side<br />In gym class staring at your hot pants<br />I was a goofball drooling over you, you, you<br /><br />Graduation right down the highway<br />Prom night don’t think that I should stay<br />Homecoming queen, you’re dating the damn football star<br />If I could I’d hit him with his own fly car<br /><br />But our sound is there<br />I’m getting desperate girl<br />You’re so hot you make me hurl<br /><br />In band camp playing that dorky song<br />On the football pitch wondering what I did wrong<br />On my bed thinking of that lonely queen<br />I was a goofball drooling over you, you, you<br /><br />Yeah, drooling over you, you, you<br />Drooling over you, you, you<br />All the times I felt so blue<br />Somehow it came down to you.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1156608176126074732006-08-26T17:01:00.000+01:002006-08-26T17:02:56.146+01:00Full Hour Glass Empty<div align="justify">Mankind often curses life for being misunderstood. Curious enough, most of these melodramatic threats involve heartbreak and rejection. I’m one of these misfits. Can I say I was? Maybe I still am. I have no idea where my line of thoughts is taking me, I turned the stereo on, 50 cent plays, some mumble about best friends hooking up… figures… I’ve been stuck on Tracy Chapman for the past few weeks. You’d think that riding in fast cars, getting ready for revolutions or telling endless stories were her top hits. Think again, the lady has a chest load of pearls… Right now Busta is telling the posey how much he loves his chick…<br />I’m sure my blog fans are getting garlic charms and silver bullets ready to end my current state of what I call “talent drought”. It might be a phase, I’m counting on that, weeklong sleepless nights aka insomnia, unpredictable missed calls and constant sighs into space were sweet, but weren’t they supposed to have ended, lets say, 3 weeks ago?!! If you told me that feelings were the next best thing I’d probably laugh at you, send you packing and ship you to some mental institution in the Middle East. I would do that, but at this split second in time I’d reward you with a cruise ticket to the South Pacific, a Thai massage and a year’s supply of champagne and strawberries. <br />I had a few doubts about fate. I admit that I was skeptical. If you think about it, how can life be blue printed, thought of, scripted, copy written and published, all before you were even born? Every single step pondered to the detail?!! I’m stubborn by nature, but I’m a little more open to that theory now. Getting all “quoty” on you: “it is only after you lose everything that you are ready to gain”, Mr. Pitt – you little bastard – you had it figured out all the time, didn’t you?<br />When you reach a crossroad, don’t think. Don’t even blink. Just act instinctively and walk into nothing. What do you have to lose? I faced that crossroad about a month ago. I chose to turn right, not out of superstition, but because the grass was red, the sky was green and the track was blurry. I walked into the unknown. I’ve been heading down that dusty road ever since. Picket fences set the boundaries in the maze of life. I might be led to a dead end, I might have to head all the way back, and I might even have to pick a new path. Either way I clinch onto God and confidently say: for once in my life I have lived.</div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1155852594351089212006-08-17T23:09:00.000+01:002006-08-17T23:09:54.353+01:00DaymareSighing to the ceiling of my island room<br />It seems like a frame straight out of doom<br />Soul that besieged me and rattled my door<br />Joust that demolished, battered me sore<br /><br />Ram of illusion caressing my pain<br />Axe cracking centaurs think I am sane<br />Goblins of slaughter pay homage to tears<br />Needless to say I sweat all my fears<br /><br />Longbows surpass the beating of flesh<br />Katanas make haste on the daimyo named fresh<br />From Gobi came riders blessed with ambition<br />A legion of warlocks craved for addiction<br /><br />Thrones are lifted though most still remain<br />A crown is a jewel reluctant to stain<br />Empires built in a wink of an eye<br />Others collapse everytime one does sighPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10301696.post-1155852511927475002006-08-17T23:06:00.000+01:002006-08-17T23:08:31.940+01:00Vineyards Of PeachLove was the warmth that a child once had<br />Then love was the passion that did drive him mad<br />Later that love turned from sour to hate<br />Soon after sweet love not a second too late<br /><br />Love is the dilemma that takes all his sleep<br />This love makes him shiver crying rivers too deep<br />Currently such love makes him hate all delight<br />Now this lost love still remains out of sight<br /><br />Love will be there in the blue of the sea<br />Soon love shall sail under clouds that are free<br />Knowing that love is as red as can be<br />God shall bring love to the corpse that is mePhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17129522264716041915noreply@blogger.com1