at 2am when silence is the only visibility
and black is a deafening frequency
which disappears into an amalgamation of avant garde music
of Philcoa at 5:41 pm
With SLEX being a highway in Manila prone to accidents,
And is ergo no different from any other place in Manila
By the government warning cigarette smoking is dangerous to your health
that would permutate nameless shapes and instantaneously disappear
in the line of fire of the electric fan's non-quantum trajectories
Against all absurdities of pop-culture and mass interests
When one is desperately superimposing disparate sentences
with the hopes of it becoming poetry only to end in disappointment
after having read the brilliant scribbles of a TV host/ rock star
When poetry and music makes love on the transcendental deep ocean bed-sheets
of paper and silence
God loves me. And I have no money.
* * *
No man is an island, literally . Because on him grows not one coconut tree.
* * *
To paraphrase Friedrich Nietzsche,
He who must be a creator of good and evil, verily he must first be a WASAKer,
and break values into pieces. Thus, the highest evil is art of the highest goodness.