As of the moment

I have been repeating myself for the last couple of days.
And it seems like i can't perfect those specific lines that Im supposed to
communicate.
Hell.

I would need another poem.
Same venue.

And I need control over some things.
I just wish that my mind can focus on the
things that needed to be done
instead of wishfully thinking, dreaming to be in another place.

We shant lose track of the things we would like to do.
So the strength remains for us to push forward and keep this
uniformity, this SSDD.

Tsk.

Dilaw na Daliri

                     normal habits.
                           Plastic minds.
                     Normal life.
                           Unexciting strife.

                     Usual benefits.
                          That family bit.
                     Stand and sit.
                           No damn labyrinths.

Meanwhile.

                                 Strange beauty.
                      Adventure handy.
                            Popular company.
                      Depressions nightly.

                             Smoking jobs.
                      A great view on top.
                         Alcoholic dawn.
                     Cancerous sermons.

Hell like.

Never Set Yourself for the Rut

       I think smart people are the people who find variety in their lives when they start to sense an incoming onset of non creative sameness. Like for example, having a job that doesnt inspire, or being in the same zone as you were in before. What i think is that also having the mindset of surviving some sort of sameness, can lead a person to be subjected to a purgation. But of course, these samenesses are subjective. A number of people are trying hard to fight stagnation by exhausting efforts to find wonders in other things. 

      I have felt this incoming stagnation thats why i push myself to avoid a foreseeable rut ready to devour us, even the strong minded ones are put to the test.

       This Friday, i had spent a time by myself not in search of a date on Valentines, but rather, some sort of a motivation that can hit me right on my face, telling me, "stop fucking abusing yourself!" and wonderfully, this came in the form of a free jazz concert in an intimate museum. I listened to the Angeles City Musicians Guild play 2 nights in a row, definitely got me into such an emotional state I even cried. I cried to a song that gave a mellow, sad drive. Like the ones you hear at bars with romantic people, not of lust, but of love. I couldnt stop crying. And it was easy to hide my tears in the dimmed lights...

          And Of course and why did i go to this venue at all even though i havent got sleep yet from a very exhausting job, because i need to push myself to keep me from insanity.

somebody called me baby at work