SEO Philippines

there’s a reason why lovers don’t take to the mountains,
the huge boulders make way for the sand and the fire burns the trees making it more magnificent,
shine shine shine shine.
it grows dependent,
the lovers grow,
inside when the first twilight first first first.

the picture,
the braids,
the blackness,
the pedestal,
walking itchy foot,
going nowhere turned fat,
its the nose therefore,
the flat oily nose in the morning,
penchant for the demise,
the long legs turned fat,
the eyes turned bubbly,
i’m mistaken.

Upon the the most corrupt and the wicked we move,
Upon the people who made this country’s poorest to beg for their food we move,
Upon the politicians who’d take away our budget for education we move,

Upon the unbelievers and the ignorants we move,
Upon the military who forgets their loyalty we move,
Upon the police who follow orders from below we move,

Upon the silence and the imposed silence we move,
Upon the intellectuals who uses their heads for the glory of sinners we move,
Upon the President who’s Presidency we disdain we move,

In this letter I was thinking how two friends would converse in a letter, the one asking the other to get out of the country, while the other still to be convinced. Anyway enjoy (this is yet to be concluded though I’m quite busy right now)

Dear Ryan,

I don’t know why you still stay in the Philippines when in fact there is no future there.  I know, I know, you’re really nationalistic and stuff but get real man that country has been growing backwards ever since it was discovered.

In a strange twist of fate The almighty has allowed the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos have a chat in a small cafe in heaven to talk about the situation of the Philippines with his arch-nemesis Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino. The cafe is brimming with Angels taking their coffees in adequate sips; What transpired are as follows:

N: So it has come to this huh?
M: What do you mean Ninoy?

N: Seeing you right now it seems like you’re doing well.
M: I’m not sure myself Ninoy all I can remember is the face of my beloved Imelda before I died… then it was all black.

And where are you now?
those pictures littered crimson,
the light falls to shade ever changing in your cameras eyes,
And it doesn’t end there-eventually you hold the colors on the palm of your hands and blow them away like wishes come sailing oceans at dusk,

Were you even in dreams?
As dreams consume your nightmares,
like lilies and the first moon that interchanged with the stars they are your eyes,
round
black
spontaneous
grinning meticulously as if in prayer,
the silent latin described terms you spew like fireworks without sparks.