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From Rowie and Josh

‘Metro Manila’

Its a simple eccentric morning in Manila,

Where the mockery of birds flaunted the sky of their wings,

And people distracted to buzzing sounds and blaring lights of the metro.

The footbridge stood as the overseer of lost souls

Gathering dreamers to fulfill their quest, their visions, and prayers.

The light of their eyes paved way through the fumes,

But as eyelids shut, so does the very belief of hope is extinguished

Left in the ruins of an empire, a missing page with ashes for ink.

But as morning ignites, sisyphus climbs his hill once again.

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White Shoes in the Metro 

Marching towards the golden halls hidden in Morayta, 

Young souls anxious of greeting mask’s of strangers.

Mysterious of who they are, but their fist are raging,

Screaming for attention. Questioning God and country.

Soles of their shoes, muddy from Recto's pavements.

But stand high as towers and talk boldly to those of status, 

Ignited by decisions childish leaders have posed.

But standing in black shiny shoes spoke loudly of bluff. 

The anxious young souls seeing these protest,

Thought of their seniors so free, so bold. 

But they fail to realize, the muddy shoes they all wore,

Are washed by the same parents the leaders allured.

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Dying Light

The light of you deemed through the night.

Your sunny glow and bright eyes still there. 

But the dream of you suddenly lapsed 

And cold wind of reality alarmed me. 

To shatter the complexion i built of you. 

Truly it hurts, as veins that supply me life 

Beg me to keep you inside, and bear your pain. 

No clue what is most cruel. 

The futures written for us, obliterated. 

The memory of your touch, eradicated. 

Or the thoughts and words of your love 

For me. Fabricated

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Panaderia

I woke up half past 5 to the roars of the lady lion. 

My lola commands me to buy our daily pandesal.

With haste, I moved to get coins from our sala, 

And walk the streets of Malate, the red light district—

Where tall, frail foreign men made it their Zion. 

The dawn killed the angelic lights of Sin City.

Vendors of rice cake and soy are assembling. 

The yolk of eggs and last night's dinner are sizzling.

Funny how the street is a playful labyrinth for elites, come night. 

And a gathering for the manongs who drive them at dawn. 

The bakery across always looked like a kingdom. 

With a towering sign and the fragrance of sweet heaven. 

There, I buy the salted bread rolls for me and my lola. 

Thankful, I am, to break bread in this palace. 

Funny how that name is seen in every block of the city’s midst.

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@mkvx

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literature and academia

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We Made a Beautiful Bouquet (2021) ‘花束みたいな恋をした’ dir. Nobuhiro Doi

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@mkvx

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Me in England (Someday)

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I can feel her warmth.

Her texture,

Her emotion,

And specially her Passion!🖤

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DOPE AF

This is bloody genius. 

Movies turned into the covers of old books by an illustrator Matt Stevens. 

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GATTACA (1997) dir. Andrew Niccol

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“A Young Lady”

Thy skin is white And thy lips are red. With mysterious eyes And pure black hair. When morning comes I start with a question I wait for a moment And, answer from the maiden I feel joy and excitement As I start my day Thinking a bout her And what she's doing today. Will she be watching a play? Reading a book? Or in bed just to lay? Or write to me, if she may? She likes to share laughs That can make you gas And everyday stories That are really funny. Once I heard her voice It was sweet and short And I will always remember Her tone once more. Her adorable laugh That makes anyone smile And her remarkable wits Will avoide me daft. Thee might say I am in love. But quite wrong You are. For I don't know what I am feeling I only know that You're quite appealing. Any man would be lucky To find her as a maiden I know it for certain Would be the greatest burden.

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Flacko loko, no Four Loko (Uh) Al Capone or Acapulco (Uh) Al Pacino off the cocaína (Uh) I'm in love with the co-co (Uh, uh) Coco Loso with my flash, no flashin' photos Fashion photos in your mag' That MAC gon' pogo stick Them plaques gon' fall, no go, go Go-Go Gadget, polo jacket Matchin', poke out, ratchet Matchin' with new SR, no-no logo Trucker hat from AWGE, you bastards That's Chanel, my bag Chanel, my bitch Chanel My bag Chanel, her rag Chanel, we match, Chanel

FUCK IT

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“(…) Around us the woods woke with sound, and shadows lived in the air and on the dry leaves. (…)”

— Wendell Berry, from In Memory: Stuart Egnal in “The Peace Of Wild Things″

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Order for Blood

A simple man once lived in a peaceful neighborhood where everybody was kind and every body knew each other, The man was named Oliver. Oliver hasn’t found a job since he retired from the army, he didn’t know how he can provide for his wife and daughter. Days have passed he asked all of his friends and neighbors if they have any work they can give him? But all of them replied “Just wait until you found the Job for you.” He didn’t taught of the reply that much.

Then one day a letter came by his house, a red envelope. He was shocked with what the letter stated, he was offered a great amount of money, but he would have to kill three targets, a priest, and two businessmen. The letter was sent by an unknown company. He didn’t know what to do he wanted to provide for his family. So he accepted the job.

He killed three men fast, as he gunned down the priest, stab the businessmen on the chest. But he still remembered as he shot the priest he thanked Oliver for taking his life. But as he drove with blood on his hands, he saw all of his neighbors in mask and circling around the road, when asked what was happening two small assassins attacked him, but it was no problem as he gun them down. But as he lift the two peoples mask he discovered it was his…. Wife and daughter. Then his neighbors circle around him and cheered “All hail the Executioner”. He realized the letter came from his neighbors that wanted him to be there new Executioner for the new society.