Cozy sheets,
my legs rubbing in the warmth,
hiding-and-seeking
the cold.
Seeded eyes,
locked in last night's dreams
unevenly shaped-
Morning grimace.
Then smirking at
the hour-teller.
Lights on,
pervading the dim walls,
the sound of voices
filling my curved ears-
Colors beaming
outside the window,
and chilly winds pressing
against my rough face.
Unspeakable mystery-
I just reach out.
And live life.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
Pierced-
by a red hot trident,
smearing protruding ribs,
Crushed to pieces.
Shreds of skin-
sliced, torn ravagingly
chewed by ravenous jaws.
Hellish beasts,
tossed.
And scraped muscle threads.
Dented bones,
gnawed-
to the soft edge,
cracks of brown dust,
shattered, spread.
Spikes of heads-
pinned through the scalp,
chunks of brain,
blunt rusty shafts.
Rivers of blood
flowing through
dried hearts-
spurted veins.
Crimson eyes.
convulsively shaking-
the last beats,
shrieks of despair,
drops of sweat,
Exhale.
Flashed iris-
The last color-
all is black.
I shed but a tear.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 7:05 AM UTC
It's so hot.
The priest's sermon-
whose warm voice so soft,
soothes the yearning ear,
encouraging oft,
for all to hear.
But the soul most dear.
And the poignantly silent Cross behind him.
People's voices-
rosaries, novenas,
strapping their arms,
but not their lips.
Heartily singing
or maybe snoring,
rising to the heavens,
but drowning my little own.
Like each sentence is simply a groan.
And the endless cars honking outside us.
Then in my little reverie, I yell:
Don't hush me!
When I pray to Thee,
all I want is Thy sympathy,
whose essence to a dry soul so empty,
would quench thousandfold a bounty!
Cries.
Then right beside my pew,
a light of unfurled color lies,
reveled by so few.
Then I look to the left,
facing the most mighty sun
shining on my burned cheeks,
on the blackest of hair,
closing my ****** eyes,
having a little fun.
Only one voice
of direction, of choice,
of just enough noise-
to brighten my day,
to go along with whatever may,
I am allowed to play!
And Mom tells me to keep silent,
before any wall gets a dent,
after I've learned what they've meant.
But, it's Sun-day.
The one light, the one love,
for the one me-
God allowed me to be.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
Sitting silently,
peering deeply
into your solitary refuge,
as memories pervade me.
Amidst abandonment,
childhood being so cliché,
from you a light shines
that defeats the darkness of my day.
Swings.
How life seems to move
back and forth
and we simply fear
to stop.
Then to revel the thrill
of falling again
from brittle branches.
Tunnels.
Dancing in the dark,
the unknown,
to stay still for a while,
devoid of light.
Only to raise one's legs
to peer out for peers,
to take chances.
Slides.
Gliding through
the smooth path,
constantly weathered and greased.
Just to start again,
to continue gliding through
the days and nights
viewing life like glimpses.
Tic-tac-toes.
One x, two o's
Hoping that each block
will give us some order.
Not knowing that
each turn
controlled by our own hands
rotates around our own nuances.
Monkey bars.
Climbing horizontal ladders
from one to another,
counting each bar, each fall.
Achievement after age.
And when we've stretched long enough,
we leave but
our fingertips' traces.
The playground.
Strolling around the mist
of your childlike presence.
Then I've forgotten,
how all laughter, cries,
delighting the sun's each ray,
all simply started from
a choice to play.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
You always seem
to live.
I see you play
with stones and swings,
Leaping from one tree
to another, then falling.
Scratched by twigs and thorns,
that you once played with.
I see you read
with books and notes,
skimming headlessly
from one page to another,
then putting them down.
Burned by the knowledge,
that once enlightened you.
I see you eat
with cakes and cookies,
tasting one dish then another,
voraciously.
Then you're suddenly fed up
with the food
that once nourished you.
I see you bathe
in streams and rivers,
splashing countless ripples,
and popping bubbles,
only to dry yourself
from the water
that once cleansed you.
I see you sleep
with soft pillows and warm blankets
protecting you from the dark,
the cold night,
caressing your dreams.
Dreams of folly, of laughter,
of despair, anger,
life's fallacies.
Silence.
Then for sometime,
you live
for what may have killed you.
Stay with me
for I see you.
I just watch you.
with my eyes that never close,
with my tears that always flow,
with my light that never blinds
with my sight always unseen.
Hoping that someday,
at the break of dawn,
when you truly awake,
My eyes
will be only
and forever
yours.
(I love you.)
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Oh, where the fair sun's light glistens the sand,
and the crystal waves of the sea so blue,
A paradise, caressed by nature grand,
my freedom, whom I have loved before you!
Its calm mountains of beauty incarnate
to a thousand fortunes I would relish!
Trysts with knowledge, ideas passionate,
with life, liberty, shall I not cherish?
But when you, oh darling of my vision,
are ****** to the hell of mundanity,
I cling to light that darkens my mission,
drowned in the abyss of iniquity!
Dreams, awakened and fulfilled at life's cost,
Memories, future of bliss, all is lost!
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
Tiny droplets on my window
As I look out gazing,
at the stars who light you.
(Droplets.)
Then I've forgotten,
how the sun and moon never share
the sky.
When all is cloistered
by the infinite walls each builds
Only to move forward
with wheels so round.
So I ponder.
From whence do you come from?
Others say
the rain.
From a God so dry,
to drench so sharply
a people
who refuse to even
be chilled.
But have I refused to be mild?
Others speak,
or even laugh about you
being from a wooden cask.
So simplistic a material
born of nature's *****
raised by human hands
killed by a shoe's trample.
Only to be revived
by repetitive thirst.
But have I abandoned value?
A small voice
goes so far to whisper
that you are but
a leaf's residue.
Relegated as lifeless,
you, so clear, have given life
to the colors of autumn.
And rekindled by
the same time
that disowned you.
But have I been disloyal?
Though now as I lie
staring at the snow
a crystal sparkles.
Something
from my own eye
my own bliss
my own sorrow
my own consolation
my own mortality.
Abandoned when I must go.
Or have I refused to be constant?
Notwithstanding your origin,
I touch you,
you will never be the same.
But will I?
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC