The road that ends below lies deep, lies still.
No moon to light the snow. The sky is clear.
Transfixed, heads back and arm in arm, eyes wide!
The Holiest of Holy Nights is here—
So spill the lights of Heaven into sight—
Illumined, rising, falling, shifting trace.
Upon the starry sweep of Christmas night,
In ribbon-folds of light and dark it sways
Above the shepherd pine and hemlock choir.
There— This night! The sky! The lights!
The stars! The fire!
Above! Across! Dear God—
Where the nights are numb, and the ground frosted,
Where the ocean lies still and quietly.
Upon that abyss, there it riposted,
A reflection of refracted beauty.
A blush of colors painting the sky,
A wave that rippled of untold stories.
As if the Earth let out a gentle sigh,
In its longing wake to show its glory.
In this velvety night, we lie and watch,
And flush our thoughts and soak it in.
An experience that cannot be bought,
To wash over us and begin again.
That night we shared in loving memory.
That night we were in perfect harmony.
i was told that she moved like the wind,
and her eyes carried whispers from the ocean that
her hands breathed like the leaves but
it wasn't till i saw her in the lights,
dancing as the music swirled around
speaking like she could chase away sorrows and
singing because the world depended on her words, that
her voice reminded me of the home where i belong.
in baler where the sun shines and the waves visit
is where freedom bathes under the blue skies
in the seaside realm of surfing
simple hotels line the shore
where you can run to the beach fronts
after settling in little white rooms,
and in the blue water
wait tanned, youthful surfing instructors--
local boys of the province who've grown up
with the salt water as their playground.
get on your surfboard and
join the waters,
"mag-timing ka sa alon,"—
"wait for the waves", the instructors say
and lie down on your stomach on the surfboard,
and when you do get the waves you ride them fearlessly,
you are lifted, invincible,
by the hands of the philippine sea.
and if you don't surf,
the smooth sands are there,
calling you to lie around
under the seaside sun.
and when night falls
and the waves are reckless,
you can sit on the sand
with a bonfire and some drinks—
watch the stars
with the sound of the tides as your music
and do not fear;
for in the morning
the waves will come rushing
back to the shores of Balers
to give anyone freedom
as they always do.
Shrieks still lingered....
Most of the customers were now hiding -- all over -- peppered throughout the bank. Some were only partially hidden, taking cover behind objects smaller than themselves. Those out in the open, lie-in-wait - tensed, like armadillos.
Something bloody had happened here.
This placed was stained with a fresh coat.
He stood over her (the guard from earlier, that is). The lights flickered on & off, as if power to the whole metropolis was about to cease;
& then it did...
The bank went black, as did all of the other surrounding buildings. The guard vanished in the lack of light, but he was still there; he was still close by.
If she was conscious, she would have heard him breathing & panting -she would have heard the dull commotion, which had coincided with his breath. She would have heard the muffled boxing, which ignited around her lying-self.
He felt as if his muscles were going to tear. His triceps & thighs shook uncontrollably. He had nothing left to sweat out; he had saved nothing - not an ounce - for the aftermath of these quakes; for the aftermath of the match, which had felt like an interminable marathon.
He had nothing left to sweat out,
but rain still poured outside, beating on the building like a ruthless drummer. An ensemble of sirens then wailed, as well. Their sounds traveled in all directions; however, some grew closer -- louder -- but it was far too late...
Not one shadow could be seen. Nothing could be seen,
except for when silent-lightning cracked, flashing through the tall, barred windows of the bank.
No one could be heard. Nothing could be heard;
the shrieks no longer lingered. Following the flood of light, however,
rolled in -- the sound --
…& then two eyes emerged with this new noise.
"Hell-fire" eyes. Green flames, kissed
with a bit of blue. Glowing redemption, perhaps,
~~ burnt through the blackened bank ~~
Something had crawled & stood back up;
something then peered, inward.
Growing into herself, like heated copper -
metallic parts of herself formed larger pieces,
better suitable for bending.
Her morale swam far, with the torso of a swimmer.
Her spirit ran wild & strong, but efficient like a machine
with the legs of a sprinter.
Her mind bent reality, as a force twisted her back to life,
like a champion gymnast redeeming herself from a fall.
Her soul, redefined;
her essence, re-raised.
& time was bought
by the guard
who dropped --
to the floor --
within his grave,
which he, himself,
had sincerely made.
He chose to make it -
Her eyes ...God,
her eyes... glowed,
so fucking brightly....
Two giant pools
of some kind of green,
Her eyes pierced - quietly
-- surprisingly -- but with a degree of fury,
which could match the loudest of roars.
Her eyes -- like two crosshairs --
lined up with those doors….
...the doors to the office -
at the top of those steps…
which then flew
open, as the man in blue
He moved like a ghost, descending those steps -
blipping his way over, till he was face-to-face with those pools...
If he was a ghost, she then stared at him as if he was already dead.
“ENOUGH!!! Enough of this!” he screamed. Madder than all-hell, he turned devilish red.
He sounded like an unhappy god, but those eyes only continued to peer back at him ...as if he was already dead.
She deeply inhaled & then snorted much like a bull, like a beast,
but his unusual blue-suit hung untouched, unstained, from his body, as her exhale spattered upon the glass -- from the other side -- on the other side, quite unexpectedly.
For she stood in darkness -- heated -- as fluid copper,
flaming green & blue... somehow, now -
outside of the bank.
An artisan pole vaulter -- with
the torso of a swimmer,
the legs of a sprinter, &
the contortions of a champion gymnast --
over the undesirable path, which this man in blue
had laid out for her. ...Like a machine, she had leaped
out of his crypt -- out of that icy vault -- up out of unconsciousness,
out of the bank.
Her spirit was wild,
& she ...ah, finally ...a true
The man in blue’s eyes widened, as he held his gaze.
He -- at long last -- failed to hold is composure; he was blindsided, enraged.
....Or perhaps she was the one who held his gaze -
who widened his eyes -- made them tear --
who filled him with rage.
(Her own rage....).
His innards burnt as hot as her eyes. She was recycling the remaining heat from the hurricane squalling about outside -feeding fire to the man pin-striped in blue. Regardless of who held whom, they locked eyes -- like eagles locking talons -- in the darkness.
In the darkness, her brightness - began to burn-away at blue.
The air occupying the metropolis settled, as it finished cooling.
She had continued channeling this energy till the man in blue suffocated from the pressure & burnt away
- taking down the entire bank in this vehement blaze,
...by her unanticipated glory.
If he was a ghost, then she was a phantom -
If he was a ghost, then he had faded...
If he was the fated, then she was the fate-r,
then she was his maker.
....A Valkyrie of horror,
who embodied life & death,
stained in rage, as well as love....
Her eyes glowed so brightly --
two pools of...
“Fuuccckkkk,“ one of the astronauts murmured,
tearing up, as the team continued bracing themselves for impact; the velocity was incredible.
The shuttle then collided into a sea, where they plunged deeply -- now, a submarine --
immersed in a speckled shroud of stars.
They had only wanted to return home....
They had only sought for a haven...
...a haven they could call "home."
They did not know if they had arrived,
or how far they had flown, but still
something about them lingered -- remained --
regardless of location -
hope for a forgotten garden,
All of my love.
Bless the sky when winter comes
and twilight sings a song of ice,
cold and pale
as its ghastly grip of death.
Embers dress the aurora on such
A pale ghost dances around an oak,
around the Pantheon.
It's a ghost of my own, an illusion.
Memories seep away like forgotten dreams;
lost, like a raven in the night.
I bow to the Pantheon, to nature.
I found you when I strayed too far north
sailed further than it was safe
They warned me, begged me to return
but I had found the sea and left the shore
said goodbye to the days of yore.
With my destination in sight, I could hardly believe my eyes
The sky turned pink, green and violet
I stared at my life through a wide-angle lens.
You graced the night, you made me go blind
A dancing, smiling, breathing light
Your icy thighs
My northern lights.
Then I stepped out of a buzzing fridge
eagerly awaited an exciting new age
couldn't wait to tear off my bloody thorns
But you just made me eat my words
Count my faults
Finished dreams and swallowed thoughts
But who was responsible for all the pictures in my head?
I never chose to be caught in your fishing net.
You graced the night, made me go blind
A dancing, smiling, breathing light
Your icy thighs
My northern lights.
I tried to stay in the desert of snow
but over time, you just grew cold
you stopped shining for me at all
resisted my screams and ignored my calls.
I sailed home and left your frozen paradise
and today, I saw a girl I liked and lifted my heavy eyes.
She was dressed in white, feet all bare
What if Jesus Christ had bleached blonde hair?