Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Sometimes, silence is the loudest kind of noise.

Back when it was so easy. Like one, two, three… without the square roots and the variables from a to z. Like when chemistry didn’t mean check out the temperature and if the ingredients were right, but how you blend with the person you love and how you feel happy when they’re around.

Back when holding hands meant never letting go and keeping you till the end of the get-go. Like when poetry is romantic and the words used were deep and the response would be ecstatic. Like when playing with her hair meant I like you and I don’t mind spending this time with you, because it meant so much more.

Like when you get lost, you stay where you are and wait. Because you’ll know someone will look for you… and someone will always find you. Wishing I was always there to talk to you, laugh with you, and just be with you.

And back when all I have ever done was write you love poems. And some days there will be the occassional hurt poetry but they wouldn’t really matter. Because deep down, there will always be those love poems amidst the scary black cloud that surrounds it. And I wrote you those love poems, everyday, with those soft sweet words of surrender when I kiss your jaw and snuggle on the crook of your neck–

–and all I ever wanted was your kisses.

Want to kiss you beneath that mane of hair. Want to kiss you as I hugged you from the back and your nape ready and bare. Want to kiss you with open eyes and smile as I see your eyes closed. Want to kiss you in front of strangers, uncaring and display of how everything is. Want to kiss you on your earlobe and see your lips lift up to a grin. Want to kiss you on the nose, your cheeks, your eyes, your lids, your eyebrows, want to play with your hair as I hold your head steady.

Want to kiss you and tell you I love you.

But that was back when it was so easy as ABC and not caring how many numbers there are after one, two, three. So now I keep all these feelings bottled up in silence. And time is all I’m counting on when all I want will come amidst this space.

Because sometimes, silence… really is the loudest kind of noise.

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I
am
cold
again.

This cityscape drapes and holds
us in perfect unison of our love,
while we hide in two silhouettes.
The lights on the distant streets
call us names and painful words.

I’ll cover your ears and hide your
eyes so nothing will get through
and corrupt all you still don’t feel.

Breathe.

That’s how we are able to live today or tomorrow–
because we are all more than able in this lifeless city.
We are all more than all those statues we hold closely.
We are more than the hollow eyes that still stare intently.
We are more than the secluded thoughts that cry lonely.
We are the ones who will never have the chance to go.
Just drift a bit closer to me tonight, I need to escape.
The warmth we bathe in officially has no reason,

so

–together we can avoid that desolate feeling for now.
Above our eyes there’s no more clouds to protect our contempt.
It is cold, I wish we could hold our arms in interlocking patterns.

I apologise for all the woeful attempts at being the one for you.
I wish that we could just breathe in our silence, not our violence.
I hope I can be there when you hold my heart above all the tall
buildings that we still cower before in the fear of being crushed.
The black paint is quietly dripping from the sky,

but
I still don’t
want to go home.

If I knew there was
the chance I could meet you
half way, could we just try to hope together?

I could keep you,
w a r m.

As the city sighs and we are regrettably distanced,
I hold it all inside so no other soul is able to see.
I look to the concrete calendars where the ones living
their lives cry for the chance to feel like life is worth living.

It’s not a puzzle, not a game,
there are more combinations
of life that we should observe.
I can’t see an end to this prison.

But
I can
see an
end to
our
misery.

If these controlled circumstances of life
have so many walls, why am I keeping
myself infatuated with being consoled?
Is there more to the roads, the people,
the scenes in this city than all the blood
that finds the single chance to spill and

r u n

faster than before?

Will I be able to call
out to you when the
only communication
lines we place above
ourselves fall to ruin
as these empathetic sorrows of this
silent situation confines us to the city?
Destroying the only place we call home.

For
now
the city (This distance that’s between us)
breathes slowly and reveals it’s secret,
“I am no happier living here than you.
But I’ll (Is killing me more than you know)
keep holding on for the chance to see
if tomorrow
will be
that
little
bit
better.”


Paglipas ng mga panahon,
lalo ko nalalaman na ang nakaraan,
ay unti-unting nawawala sa kawalan.

Mga pinagdaanan ay unti-unting
makakalimutan.

Mga sinabi noon ay hindi na
maalala sa kasalukuyan.

Unti-unti mong iisipin na
sa ngayon ka lang nabubuhay.

Kalimutan mo na ang lahat,
wag ka hihinto sa paglakad.

Sabay sabay tayong maglalaho
balang araw.


Wilt

31Jul10

One day you told me you’ll live,

And I waited for you with flowers on your grave and a smile on my face.

Waiting.

You told me in a few years we’ll get married and have kids and have a beautiful house alongside the beach shore and watch the sunset go down but the few years were up. I waited for you for years but you never showed up but still I waited by your grave with a smile on my face with my body in another’s embrace. Waiting.

My hands were wrinkly as well as the other parts of me, but I always saw the smile on my lover’s face the same as yours once did. You promised me you’ll come back but you never did, and whenever I waited with flowers in my hands and my heart on the bed we once shared in passion and amenities, my tears of joy will drip in the piece of land you rest on and I’ll see your face below me.

You’re decaying.

Hot with the heat of the cores of humanities.

Hopeless.

Dead.

Decaying.

Over and over and over again I read the words on the stone erected from the pits of the dirtiest land they laid it on. And over and over and over again I will cry and all my sanity will wash away with the sounds of my tears and the echo of the emptiness of my surrender. I will hear your voice again and it’ll replay in my head like the thousandth time in that century you were away. It just seemed like it was yesterday when you left me with a smile on your face, and your breathing slowly lower its pace.

“I’ll come back for you and live,” you told me like it was the easiest thing to say. “You’ll love me even if it’ll take a while, you’ll promise me, won’t you?”

I told you I would stay and I watched your life slowly dissolve away like bleach erases the deeds done that day. Because it was your silkiest touch and finest of kisses that made me want to say that everything was okay, and you’ll be fine and you’ll be back someday, and whisk me away in our fairytale ending with smiles on our faces. But it never came.

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

I’m still waiting.

But you never came.

And my lover will come to my side and wipe away my tears and smile at me like the smile you once gave me with love and hope and the tender promise of love reawaken.

“Don’t worry,” he said and he gathered me up in his arms like it was you who did it everyday. “It’ll take a while but he’ll come back for you and live. He promised you, didn’t he? You’ll love him even though it’ll take all eternity.”

And I saw you for the briefest of moments and forgotten that it wasn’t you who I laid my lips on and the smile that graced my lips wasn’t for you. Because I was tired of waiting and I wanted to see you soon, and for the love of all happy and the tears of hope that came down crashing, I noticed that my lover was just like youbut without the blood on his face or the decay on his body or the eyes that told me he loved me even in sin and hope that everything was going to be okay someday.

My eyes unseeing I picked up the last sheath of soundness of mind and create the distraction abhorred. I would choke at the sound of my lover’s whimpers as stroke by stroke the sloshes and sounds of his distress take notice at my own. I smiled at him.

Stroke
for
stroke.

And eventually fade away to nothingness like it was planned from the days passed to come. I remembered the tiles covered with red and the splotch of his surrender on the dry floor of your sanctuary. Where everything was white, pale pink, and blue. Like it was a baby’s cries of a mother’s love as it just came out from the womb. And it would repeat the memory over and overagain, and I will cry at the tone of the voice of that last few sounds you made.

It begged me not to go.
It begged me not to go.
It begged me not to go.
It begged me not to let go.

But I did and I now I’m paying the price with my own blood and my own love and my own heart and my own life and I would say goodbye to my lover with a smile on my face and a tear rolling down in one swift grace. I waited and waited with bated breath, I waited. It’s now my time to make commends and come to you with my body laid down on your piece of the earth and my hand rested on top of your decaying body.

It’s now your turn to wait.


Overdose

31Jul10

His words flowed through his fingers every time he touches the surface of white and black. Like eloquence of calming seas and pomegranates of red and white, and trees that swayed with the breeze in the seemingly endless spring. His words will reach her ears in time with the wind that passes and she would rock in rhythm while humming the tune of her past hauntings. Another note to hold, and another song to sing and behold. Eyes that tinted black will light in gleeful sonnets and white wedding dresses would come tainted in lover’s make believe stories. Come, my darling, let’s behold another day and sing our songs of praises and await the new morning.

Another day to say
I loved you
once
too.

But he never did return the laughter that escaped her lips a long time ago, and her chest rose again with the feeling of contentment when he opened his mouth but the words would not come out. Never once did she doubt that he was just there and she would still wait and wait and wait for another decade, another lifetime wasted. She was always there with her arms wide open, ready to accept him finally and see to it that their once upon a time would end with a happily ever after.

Another dose of
reality gone
com
ple
te
ly

w

r

o

n

g
.

.
.

Head up in the clouds, still she waited. In hopes of changing his belief and faith, because she was all she knew he needed and all he knew was worth it. And someday he’ll figure it out and keep her in his arms, locked with his head rested upon her shoulders and hands entangled with hers. Like what she always wanted and always needed. In her dreams of daytime and night, he’ll be with her in time.


Her Last Fool

31Jul10

They trail down the tips of his fingertips to the edges of the tainted plain lace. And it makes her so happy to see his tears flow down from grace. His eyes. They bleed their darkest and retells his desires from Heaven’s embrace. The pits of fire welcomes him to its disgrace. How shameful it must be but it makes her happy.

So she’s happy with her head dunk down in the well of lost souls and see his eyes wide with happy tears in row.

Happy like the tempest with her knife thrust in his chest and makes his life end in one swift jest.

Her lies resonate in the earliest crest of childhood majesty and her humble jester would lie awake with his eyes open wide, waiting for her to say her ordered string of notes. More and more and everyday he would lie awake waiting for her lips to open and save his mind’s clutter from the blood it drips with. But she would lie in her bed of soft petals and curl her fingers up for more, more, more.

More blood.
More suffering.
More him in the silver plate served at supper feast.

And he would cut a piece of his heart and serve it to her well with a grin on his face that says satisfaction. It makes her so f—— happy to see him bleed through his shirt and his hat strewn across the polished marble floor, blood-soaked and torn. His flesh heeded in the wrinkles of weariness and forlorn. But she doesn’t care nor does she see through her happiness in seeing him bleed.

For her.
For her.
For her.
His majesty.

His queen.


Pretty

31Jul10

She said she was pretty,
With the way she always looked,
Others said she was pretty,
But she was fucking crazy,
And they were hooked.

Because all she wanted was fun,
She didn’t care others were in the run,
Insignificant others she would say,
And her life was slowly drained away.

Away.

In front of her mirror,
She watched herself grow grey,
Picking on all her flaws,
She picked up her knife,
And cut through straight.

Out comes the blood,
And she would scream at the sight,
It was ugly she would say,
And watched her life drip away.

Stitches were all over her body,
And she would watch as they stayed,
But she didn’t care,
She didn’t mind,
The ugly was out anyway.