Charred CoalTatlong oras nang nag-iisip, nakatunganga,Nakatingin sa isang blangkong papel.Upos lang ng sigarilyo ang katabi,Nagmumunimuni sa madilim na gabi.Tunog lang ng kuliglig ang naririnig,Lamig lang ng ulan ang nararamdaman.Habang inaangat ko ang aking kamay, iniisip ko ang iyong mukhaKinuha ko ang aking lapis, sa blangkong papel idinampa.Sa ilalim ng madilim na bumbilya,Iginuhit ko ang iyong mukha.Kahit ikaw ma'y hindi ko pa nakikita,Mukha mo'y kabisado ko na.Ang pungay ng iyong mga mata, ang haba ng iyong buhok,Ang mala-rosas mong labi, at makinis mong balatAng malalambot mong mga pisngiKung saan aking labi sana'y dadampi.Ang tibok ng puso ko'y bumibilisHabang ang iyong katawan nama'y iginuguhitAng iyong mga kurbang walang patidNa tunay naming nakakaakit.Ilang oras na rin ang lumipasNang simulan kong igalaw ang aking lapisNatapos na ang ulan, tahimik na rin ang hanginAt ang haring araw ay lumalabas na rin.Ang iyong guhit, na buong gabi kong inatupagNatapos na rin,
AnswersI don't write poetry.I just let the pen DanceAcross crumbled pages.I let my soulBleed into ink.As my way of askingStatues and glowingScreensFor answersBut They never answer.
we used to fly togetheri've got a good memory,but i was surprised to find the box;full of our scribbled conversationsand protestations (no, that's not right)declarations, no, dreamsof what the future might look like.we were young, vibrant, andbeautiful (and inseparable, once)and we thought we knew how totake hold of the future.for my part, i struggled withage as if i had a chance of winning;our battles were the talk of the town.you, you took to the passing of time with an eagerness that showedjust how ready you were to put away the notions of childhood.i've got a good memory,but it's easy to be selective,pick and choose the momentsthat i want to relive.we were foolish, confident(and oh, so alive)and we fell into our roleswith a predictability that is near miraculousto behold.i doomed myself to the role ofthe forever-child, always looking back,always dreaming of the carefree days.you quickly ran out of adventures,and set about finding new myst
Empty But Alivebreathing you in, octoberi taste the numbing agentseven on the very surfaceof your conspiracy, thisprepping of the patientthis unworking of the earthsealing it as-ishardening the sitesof future graves, forced shallownot harvesting, just weakeningarranging late-year stacksof blurry panic, while disablingthe defensive responseso much decline to wagebefore the winter killsoctober knows i'm a foolfor the dark underbreathof its dead open airthe howl of the breezethrough its night fields, emptybut alive, and so very not emptyits rhythm of silencebetween barks and callsstalls my heart mid-beati used to pray for its enginesto restart, before it hit groundbut now i realizethat there is no floorto this dreamand no bottom to this fall
To The Boys Who Died In Their SleepTo The Boys Who Died In Their Sleepc(h)ords s n a g cadence in codasplaying andromedawaves over tideswashing lives into over timesitting ondeadlines dead lieson the otherside oftimeand time folds like old laundry over clotheslinesfade into two endpoints like closed lines this is ad nauseum not ad infinitum adding sicknessto
My Personal PreferenceI don’t careFor pretty heartsI like the onesThat are scarredStitchedAnd taped togetherBecause those are the onesWho have been through HellAnd have the courageTo keep beating
hummingbirds only fly in the sun hummingbird girl,you are the sunlight twinklingin my eyes. a letter addressedto no one ended up on nobody'sdoorstep, dancing around odysseusand his iliad. the gods whisperin your ears at night, lending youtheir words to paint onto brittleparchment. you are a mysterycloaked in fragments and fabricatedwings, the taste of the universeon my tongue. if i could unlockthe cage i would set you free,but my nimble fingers aren't goodfor anything except tying knotsin heartstrings that aren't my own.
ten.why don't we sit underthe hangmans noose;contemplate lifefor a bit.watch the crows hustle aroundthesefrayed ropes, and listen to thewind rustle dirt'sleaves.there's a cool breeze comingthrough,almost too cold, its...bitter.so let's just walk away and seek thewarmthunder these charcoalfeathers.[its a comforting feeling to have life, anddeath in your control. ]
dextrorotatory doxologiesI once was a heavenly body, I think.A sharp crystal in the veins of God.I swam about in bliss fluidand rambled all truthsin new shades of deep blushas he brusquely introduced meto others more potentand livid.I felt myself nearing the heart of all matterand panicked, lodged painfullyin vein, dangerously ingrainedinstead of ascertaining thatthe truth of self is not heldbut given.And as I ventured slowly closerI posed but one query:"Tell me, what powerdo you haveto spare me?"
song birds only sing when it rainsmy little mouse,tell me- do youlike the sand underneath your feet,the ocean waters with it'scalming push and pull attitudeguiding you this way and thatwith a loving hand.do you curl beneath coversduring snow storms, listening tothe wind howl, knocking against windows-against your hands, small and muchlike glass themselves.you are peace, harmony in small storms,a soothing melody in quiet voice toanyone willing to listen toa quiet voice hidden in a tiny statue,eyes always seeking, always hidden.
Chubibo - CarouselThe carousel of life goes a-roundIts passengers ride and alight(Either falling, or fading, or getting tired)It never stops spinning.Whirling in a circle of folly,A lesson learnedIs a lesson forgotten...