"I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine", says an ally.
"I dream of the day I would see the flowers again",
cries an old lady from Palestine
"I dream of the day I would see Palestine",
prays a refugee in a faraway country
"I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine",
screams a little child in Palestine


And the sun is the witness
The sun knows it all,
it has watched, witnessed and waited...


I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine!
From the bullets bored through little children's ribs,
to the bloodied blouses hanging in the clothesline.

I dream of the day I would see flowers again!
From the people's laughters and childish ease,
to the tears and pain I can't even begin to imagine.

I dream of the day I would see Palestine!
From the river, in the desert, in the colorful markets,
to the sea, in the beach, taking our sweet sweet time.

I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine!
Because there would only be days of freedom!
Only for the children, for Gaza, mothers, fathers, doctors, soldiers, every Palestinian!
Days that are theirs!
Days and endless days are all there is!
And it is all theirs!


And the sun is the judge and the jury
The sun grants it,
the justice for every injury, freedom for every perjury...

Stop.
Don't puff.
See the ocean?
Run and go.
Want to make a new friend?
Put down your phone.
Or do as you please,
but please don't smoke cigarettes in Siargao.
Don't make an irony of your stay
and a fool of yourself here.
Don't disrespect her sweet air,
don't bastardize her fresh breeze.

See the ocean?
Run and go.
Make a friend.
Do what you please.
Breathe in the sweet air.
Feel the kiss of the fresh breeze.
Don't smoke cigarettes in Siargao.

Ang masalimuot na pag-aalboroto.
Hindi na sana muli.
Ang nakakapuwing na mumunting bato.
Maging ang huli na sana ang pinakahuli.
Aasahan pa ba natin?
Ang nakakabulag, nakakaiyak na abo.
Hihintayin pa bang dumating?
Hindi na sana muli.
Ang natuyong lahar ang aking kapatawaran.
Ang iyong kapaligiran ang sa iyo naman.
Tuwing Nobyembre at Enero
Ipagdarasal ko ang hindi na muling pagputok, pagsabog
at pagbulusok ng Pinatubo.
Hindi na sana muli.
Maging ang huli na sana ang pinakahuli.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet
Did the past month really occur
Or I just hallucinated that we met?

Consectetur adipiscing elit
Did I regret it
Or did I wish I stayed longer for a bit?

Sed do eiusmod tempor
Did you regret it
Or are you wishing now for more?



Placeholder,
I'm just another design page,
whose lips are a passing, familiar symbol.

A replacer,
You're just another pretty face,
whose eyes I already forgot the color.

We move along and away,
Get on with our diring days



I couldn't even dare call you a lover,
we really just both filled each other.

I write of love yet I don't believe in it anymore,
yet I still dream of love as it soothes me terrified.
I would give love if I could, but I have nothing more,
yet I still try to find it and scream it in songs at night.

I dream of love yet I fancy turning it into a nightmare,
yet men keep sleeping down their backs,
anticipating for even just a passing vision of me.
I write of love only to spin it into a cautionary tale,
yet they're awake deep into the night,
and I'm a book they're flipping, turning, eagerly reading.

I write of love, praise it yet I've already lost my faith,
yet I still pray for love as if it's my last salvation
I know now that love is all but a promise and bait,
yet I keep being hooked, like a tiny fish in the vast ocean.

I sing of love, write of it, dance for it,
yet at the end of the day, it's all but a dying art,
yet I'm an artist starving to make it to the other side,
even make it out alive
I have learned now that love,
with all its theories and truths, only breaks my heart,
but you're a new canvas I want to spill
all my letters, colors and lights.

My heart has had enough
My mind had its final run
But my body
Oh god, my body,
My poor body...
It remains unsullied, untouched

Years have passed
and the past have yearned,
spells were cast
and lessons are learned.
Still, my body remains hungry
It remains still, and it's still at rest
Still, it's been at rest painfully
I remain unfed, receiving only less
And it wants to run, climb and fly
it wants to bleed, shed and cry

My body;
not only does it ask me for more,
but it demands the most.
It asks me to tour down the earth's core,
commands me to find what's lost.

The exhaustion
The falling
The soreness
The failing
The bouts of pain
The flying...

Everything my heart has fought with,
everything my mind has battled with,
my body wants every taste,
craves every punch and hit.
It craves some kind of feigned balance,
it craves a round of some dangerous dance

Yet I wait
I wait for nature to grant me the green light.
I wait for the stars to lull me into the night.
I wait for the trees to give me some reason.
I wait for the moon to pull me into seasons.

Oh it's for sure a delicate time.

For me and you both.

Can I see your wine menu? What's the bestseller?

'We have bottles and labels from France, madame'

Oh...

Do you have something stronger?
Something that will knock me off my feet?
Perhaps something more bitter would be better.
Something that will get me home crawling.
Maybe something smoother and a little closer.
French just isn't doing it for me.

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘻-𝘮𝘰𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘳 𝘴'𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢î𝘵.

From your Roman Empire,
to my Ancient Egypt...
from your eyes and their cool fire,
to the curses falling down my lips

Up from your northern skies,
out of my vast desert's hottest sand
In from your colosseum's light,
down to my catacombs' earth and land

Their cowardly call for battles and war
is our romance's answer to serenity
They only dare to fight us from afar,
my name haunts them for all eternity

Let them come if they wish and dare
As we inspire the world's greatest love stories
I'll let my kingdom come, all rich and bare
But they will never go down in history

You can kneel to pray,
before you commit one more sin
as you do every hour and everyday.
You can pray to avoid the calls of sin,
before you take on a bigger atrocity,
throwing both law and faith down the bin.
But rules are meant to be bent,
just like my body against the table,
or across the vastness of your bed.
But I am the revolution, your new law,
and you would learn the best way
that without me, you're as good as lost.

Ang pagkain ng croissant at floss buns
sa public places.
O ng saging o hotdog sa jeepney.
Ng chocolate ice cream habang naka-all white ka.
Ang umibig ng mga taong may mental illness.
O ng taga-malayo o magkagusto sa pari.
Ng taong hindi maaaring ibigin.
Ang maki-apid sa asawa ng may asawa.
Ang kwarto **** napabayaang linisin
dahil mas masarap nga naman ang siesta.
Mas nakakahalina ang tawag ng pahinga,
kaysa talak ng pagliligpit.
Ang trend ng salted caramel everything
dahil mas mainam ang may konting alat.
Ang nakaligtaang lakad sa government offices
dahil mas kaakit-akit ang gumala.
Ang buhay **** salat sa kaayusan
dahil mas masarap ang makalat.

They are both orange or gingers, as in my dreams
both crazy and funny, like you and me
and in our faces, in the morning, they won't scream.

In the apartment we'll never split rent together,
between the rooms we'll never kiss in
the kitchen we'll never cook in, not for each other.

The litter boxes we won't take turns to clean
the food bowls we won't refill, like you and I never did
wiping mirrors until they glisten and gleam
and looking back now, it's a relief indeed

The bills we won't compute, pay and solve,
the fights that we'll never have.
I find comfort in our inexistent marital issues
and the divorce that we'll never have to encounter.

If little me comes to me
running and asking for help,
I know that I will hold her near
carry her, run faster away from hell
and tell her, "for you I would do anything"

You think you'd have another chance
to make a dying wish
I was thinking I would take an endless glance
over some long lost art
We thought our tongues could have another dance
with an exceptionally good dish

We think we'd have another go
over things involving me and you
You were thinking there'll be more tomorrow
until tomorrow becomes "please, just go"
I thought I can have another taste of you
until your restaurant updates its new menu
until finally, there's no more me and you

Ikaw
ay isang mataas, malakas at malaking alon.
Kung makakapili at may pagkakataon,
ang mga manlalangoy sa paligid mo
ay hindi na muli pang aahon.



At ako
ay isa lamang butil ng buhangin,
alikabok sa hangin na nakakapuwing,
nakatadhanang tangayin din ng hangin,
isayaw ng agos patungo sa'yong direksyon,
at mananatili sa'yong karagatan ng panaghoy.

I'm not hoping for much
I'm not even hoping for
the good of hope anymore
But if there's a few things
I'd still hope for at all;
I hope you're being haunted
by the things we talked about,
by the jokes only we knew
and laughed about.
I hope you're being followed
by the plans you didn't want to make,
but couldn't say it out loud
I hope my jokes lingers in your head,
I hope my laughter rings in your ear
as you crash in another woman's bed,
I hope you're further away as possible
as you pull her unfamiliar body near.
I hope my hobbies are
now becoming yours,
I hope my multitude of dreams
have inspired you to maybe
finally have at least one of your own,
I hope that all these time, we have grown
whether into each other or apart,
I hope I have became your mountain and your rock,
despite never needing one,
as you have always been your own.
I hope you'll never have to wonder
how the heat of my touch feels like anymore,
I hope you'll never have to wonder
how I smell like and how you'd keep wanting more.
I hope that at night you are not alone
I really hope you are not sulking,
thinking and drinking all on your own.

Five summers, four lovers
and three checkbooks ago,
I've been here, as I am today.
Same corner, same shade of gloomy day,
and about the same volume of falling rain,
still a one-call-away favorite friend of pain.
Only now I am much more
clever and conniving,
more calculating
and dare I say,
more frightening.
My approaching steps are the pitter-patter
of the storm starting,
the thundering warning of my arrival
is Manila's hour rushing.
Words from my lips
are news you'd rather miss,
however I can't say the same
about my infamous kiss.
I am older, and longer are my to-do lists.
My patience is longer,
but my heart no longer sighs or beats.

I should've known from the first ride,
that I would be falling fast.
I should've felt it from my first fall,
that your show must go on.
I should've known from the first rodeo,
that should've been the last.
I should've felt it from my first trot,
that I'm better off riding alone.

I should've known you couldn't choke the horn,
but you were all but a yellow-belly.
I should've watched how you 'let her rip',
yet a horse is all of my riches.
I should've believed you don't want no cahoot,
but I rode for you 'til dawn while hungry.
I should've watched you ride to the sunrise,
yet I am left chasing sunsets.

But I am still the greatest,
with or without a lily liver cahoot.
I am the best, from east to west,
a taste from my lips would prove it's true.
I am the lone star that shines the brightest,
with or without your hat on, you'll be blinded.
I am all of the gold that they all rush to,
the legend they call 'light at the end of the tunnel'.

You should be sorry, oh you should be sad,
all you would be is a runaway robber.
Because I could've been your brokeback god
now I would be everything but your lover.
I put my hat down to say sorry for being your bandit,
Now I ride to where the lights would welcome me,
far away from all the grime, dirt and strife
They all cheer and whistle and holler my name,
while you weep that your whole life,
let alone your morning rides will never be the same.

Half a year has passed
Love has been recalled
and lives have been lost
Hearts have been split in halves
Lessons learned, wages earned
More questions left unanswered
Am I getting older
or just getting used to it?
Am I growing wiser
or just getting my old self back?
But all the love I think I gave to people,
out to the bigger world,
I need a little bit of that back for myself.
Even just for a little while.
I need some kind of balance
or even an illusion thereof.
Am I becoming stronger
or getting more careless?
Am I getting smarter
or just getting sheer luck?
Yet all the lessons I thought I learned
from all the people I gave my love to,
I think I didn't really need them.
All I needed was to do it myself.
Like I always do.
Is the earth getting warmer
or is my skin growing thicker?
Are my dreams becoming closer
or I just couldn't care less any longer?
More questions will be asked
and will be left unanswered.

I had my cake and I ate it too,
like all the time in the world that you took.
Adorned with cherries
and decorated with cream,
like the taste of my lips
that is only a thing of your dreams.
I thought I have once
tasted a slice of heaven,
only for it to rot away to
a thing from hottest hell.

I had my time and you took it too,
like my faith and my core that you shook.
Laced with grace
and the promise of salvation,
thoughts of your touch once felt
like a dream vacation.
I thought I have once
been granted patience,
only for it to burn down a hole
in my purest conscience.

But then I was sure I had it all,
the diamonds, the universe,
I had you, but then I also have a curse.
The parties, the best jazz age whiskeys,
these shall be enough to distract me.
The waiting, the wondering
are opulence I could no longer afford.
Like my favorite vice I had to abandon,
you are a glimmering borrowed gown
I shall never again don.

But then I'm sure I could do more,
the Philippine pearls, the world,
wrapped around my finger in a red cord.
The weddings, the finest wines I could buy,
these shall do good to get me by.
The patience, the pitying
are charities I could no longer give.
Like a prayer I utter in front of a new lover,
I am the luxury, the gold, all the fortune
you would never wager.

From my past job
To my previous love
From every cancelled flight
To my concert crowd fright
From car parking overtimes
To cutting into bank lines

I bless and I thank all of you
for my trauma on tickets!

I am filling my days with tick boxes
and to-do lists
Entertaining myself with others' inconveniences.
To save my heart from further
crack and freeze,
I play games and reward myself
with my own prizes.

I am burying every lingering question,
like you kept yours
locked inside the closet.
Like disposing our shared laughters
of their echoes and sounds,
I cover my own mouth as I cry
so no other soul hears it.

I am reducing my feelings to logic
Even my poetry and art have
become awfully calculated.
Compartmentalizing my daily plans
into sorry yet efficient lists,
I survive the nights by believing
losing me makes you elated.

I am weighing in the pros and cons,
like dancing with my own body
on a brittle balancing act.
Whispering lullabies
to my own weary heart and soul,
I find comfort in knowing
it will never come back.

The monsoons of the heart
The cyclones of our whereabouts
It's all brewing and burning
at the same time

Within the all-seeing eye of the storm,
the haze and hail over my island are born
It's both evening and morning
at the same time

The violent destructions on the east
The threatening strong winds on the west
It's all beginning and ending
at the same time

There was once a haunted tree,
not feared by many, in fact,
only by that of a young spinster.
But of five and twenty,
liked by many, however,
only a few were ever called her lover.

Until she met a man that felt like an army,
like hundreds of men marching,
whose loyalty was sworn for her beauty.
Until one man felt like a war waging,
yet like a calm ocean breeze blowing
and like marching silently into the dark sea.

Until there came the lover whose laughter
felt like an ache from a life long gone,
whose smiles felt like gunshots.
Until there was he who felt like home,
yet as distant as the tides are to the moon
and as untouchable as a silky thunderbolt.

There was a tree the spinster holds dear,
so close to her ever yearning heart.
This tree, she likens to that of her lover.
whose branches threatens to fall on her,
bears fruits that if they choose to plummet,
someone is to get hurt and it would be her.

And then there was a legend that this tree,
that was once a fruit of another host
that was fabled to be haunted.
But before the tales of horrors and shrieks,
it was abundant, it was the guide to the lost,
until it was axed, hunted as needed.

All of this tree's fruits turned to be of toxins,
opposing the townspeople's songs of praises.
All its branches grew webs upon cleaving,
challenging the tales of awes and delight.
All of which except for one, a golden fruit,
the root's promise and hope of the fallen.

What the preachers say could be of truth,
their words she avoided could be gospel.
What the non-believers say could be a tale,
their rumors could save her from demise.
What if the tree is just as rotten as the root,
what if it is indeed the produce from hell?

Your grumpy face in the mornings,
Your exhausted sigh in the evenings
Every late night until late breakfasts,
Every sunset that makes us whisper "at last"
All that makes us ourselves, all that's true
are all the reasons that makes me love you.
Catching the sunrise, breathing in the ocean breeze during the heat of summer.
Watching the snowfall and embracing the freeze during the hell of winter.
Our hands are locked through it all
These are the daily, mundane moments
I don't mind living with you and leaving with you for every rise and fall.

Please intertwine your routines with mine
Won't you spend sunsets with me
in the summertime?
I am not one to believe in forever after,
but I am one with you
for all seasons and weather.

Your sweat dripping and mixing with mine
Your sudden ramblings and whine
The uneven summer sun tans
The reds and scratches on your back
All natural, and all I ever want
These are the things
I daydream on the daily.
These are the days
I imagine myself living.
Your absence,
the single worst lethal threat
Your face,
so close while catching our breaths
Our hands,
always there for each other to hold.
All these makes for the moments
that makes our love worthy of it all.

Oh I beg you to please annoy me.
Cause me all these inconveniences.
Come closer, stop being such a tease.
Make me the most vexed woman to exist.

Your jacket with your trademark scent
Your deep-set eyes makes my knees bend
The sonorous sound of your laugh
The accidental touch from your hand
Occasional, yet each are monumental
These are the things I dream
of having even just once.
These are the moments I crave
the taste of, even just an ounce.
Your hands on my hair
Us breathing in the same air
Our hands, intertwined
These are the turning moments
I'll play on my turntable on rewind

Oh spoil me, please spoil me
Give me all these life's luxuries
Come closer, hold me, give it all to me
Make me the richest woman to ever exist.

My city...
I was here before it was even one,
my toys are older
than the high-rise buildings.
Yet all of my oldest dreams
have long been gone,
this is where new people
from far-away are dreaming.

People dream to visit here
even for a day,
I can't count the years
I've been trying to escape.
People travel here
to have a sip of coffee,
even the taste of water here
can tell that I am sick.

In the inner city,
while everyone takes photographs,
I try my best to walk
with my shoulders not dropped.
In the chic cafes
where others strike a pose,
I knew I never wanted more,
I had my dose.

My city,
that many people dream
of visiting and living in,
why, then there's me
who's here and feeling livid in.
My now-larger-city
that still feels like a small town,
I feel suffocated,
as if all my life I'm in a tight gown.

My body is a tropical island
Full of wonders, views are grand
A spectacle of various rare terrains,
overwhelming for the unadventurous
and exhausting for the meager brains.
My body boasts of all the different
exotic textures and new colors,
something your waiting eyes
must be ready to marvel at.
My body takes pride in its
mountain-like curves;
not exactly the perfect shapes
but awe-inspiring, like a painting.
Something your anticipating hands
has to feel thrilled to touch.
However, my body is also known
for its extraordinary yet abrupt movements;
scary for most and sensual for some.
Like earthquakes and typhoons,
you'll never know when the rhythms come.
Something your foreign familiarity
would either be thrilled or petrified about.
So I welcome you to this island of mine,
leave your worries back to the shores,
clear your soul and free your mind.
Leave you exhilarated and in monsoon,
my rainforest flora forever in bloom.

Marahil walang isang salita
ang makakapag-bigay linaw
Sa kadilimang taglay ng tuwina,
sa aking labi, tila nawawala ang ilaw

Mga mata'y malayo ang tanaw
ngunit hindi nito saklaw ang pagitan
Higit na malawak at binabalot ng panglaw,
sa paggising ay salat sa iyong galaw

At oo, tila nagkakaiba ang wika
na kilala ng ating mga dila,
kaya't iaalay na lamang ang buwan at araw
sa'yo, aking mahal, pati na rin aking diwa

Mula sa sulok ng aking silid
at sa isip na puspos ng suliranin,
isinusulat itong munting tula
sa buwan ng aking wikang kilala

Mga kamay ko'y ipinagdiriwang
na mayroong ikaw at ikaw ay akin,
ipinagbubunyi ang buwan ng ikaw
puso'y tatangis hangga't ika'y makapiling

We were both marching into a new war
when we knew we could end up doomed.
I once dreamt of reaching the stars
until living just felt like picking on scars,
as if opening old time wounds.

But I refuse to be bruised;
I refuse to 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 be bruised,
For I so desire to be thrown off the cliff.
I am ready to bust open my eyes and lips.
I long to have an arrow shot
to my weary heart.
I daydream of spilling blood
on your strong arms.

I refuse to be bruised;
For I am never more thrilled to perish,
Just to get a taste of your lips.
Into the lions' den
I would beg to be shoved,
Only for the glory
and name of your love.
Darling I am most ready to die,
burn and decay,
If that means I would feel your touch
across my face.

I study and read about it
Sing songs in the glory of it
Carve it on your tongue
and lips
Tattoo, etch and kiss it
on my hips

Interpreter of dreams,
you see the future
once a cynic but it seems
with you I am sure.
So I kneel and crawl
slowly towards your temple,
I am a broken statue
that only you could reassamble.

I pray, please do not humble
yourself before any god,
for you know your words
are worth more than gold.
I praise and worship you
as my one and only king,
even your sins are the
absolute truth I'm praying.

For you I would blindlessly
find a new Babylon,
for in your holy name
I saw eternal salvation.
Darling, there is no more
unbearable exile
than being far away
from you in miles.

Still I exalt you and in you
I put all my faith,
for you are the beast
my demons see as bait.
Yet you call on me
like an angel from your dream,
my songs are whisper,
while my poems are screams.

I found you one fateful,
raging night in the lion's den
we ran away with the wolves,
never returned again.
My religion is loving you
and blessing your name.
One touch and forgetting you
is a losing game.

In your quiet I found my
passing repentance,
yet our love is a loud,
deafening covenant.
On my knees,
I cast away your burdens,
in your name
I can move mountains.

I finally understand why renaissance artists
took their sweet time with their paintings
and why it took them decades to even dare
to begin working on a new one again.

I finally understand why my rock heroes
wasted years of their lives waiting for lyrics,
no matter how many hours they pour
and drink, creating melodies and music.

I finally understand why poets and beaus
would rather leave when words run dry
when artworks are new and songs are due,
that is the cue poems must bleed and cry.

Because like our love, a rare shade of blue,
like a ballad only played by the lucky few;
A love like ours is not the everyday kind,
because a love like this is rare to find.

I am known to have several hobbies,
as I also have significant prowess in each.
Because in anything that I do
and whatever I want to try,
I always do it naturally and good
just like a bird taking flight.

When it comes to new interests,
I am simply the best student.
I learn and plan carefully with method
and execute flawlessly with madness.
Calling and pulling down rain like a God,
I water my passions like lilies in the garden.

When it comes to new knowledge,
I am a servant yet the queen of this village.
A newcomer gangster who rules the streets,
I am feared in every turn and corner.
Yet an overqualified maiden on the sheets,
I am tenderly adored and kissed better.

When learning about new languages,
I dedicate it only for the arts and letters.
Speak foreign words like it's teenage love,
I've sworn this is only on paper, not my lips.
Sing fluently like my head with heels above,
I swallow my pride and swing my hips.

When talking about arbitraries and goals,
I am never not in the know from the get-go.
I am an angel who sets and builds the stage,
when I show up, nobody feels the breeze.
Yet I am the devil that gambles and trades,
in my refusal everybody finds their release.

You are my summertime,
my burning sun, my tropic,
my morning dew, my sunshine.
You are the reason why
my sunset and sunrise became one,
meeting in the middle of my equinox.
You are the reason why I felt again,
why I can feel the seasons all at once
like feeling both pleasure and pain.
But when winter swings by,
I'd hold your hand close
to my chest like a locket.
and pull you closer to me
like my favorite jacket,
take in your scent
like my mug of coffee,
consume you
for your warmth and ease.
In the morning if our porch is piled in snow,
we'd greet the cold with laughter and glee.
I would wrap you around me
like my thickest scarf,
hell I would even be
the fire to keep you warm.
You are my summertime,
but when winter and cold comes around,
I will stay beside you in the blizzard,
eternally blessing the day
that I have ever walked your ground.
This is a promise I am making
right in the middle of summer,
that I would be with you
in any season and every weather.

The way you have a way with words,
I bless every book and every poem
that has ever graced your sight.
I praise the letters you've strung thus far,
if I could, I'd stitch them with my own
to make a blanket of letters that would
cover and protect you in the next winter.
Now I am writing astray,
but from my original pseudonym
I am never too far away.
You are the one writing these poems,
I am just your hands and the veins on them.

On one Tuesday, you asked me
why I check the words you use,
why I analyze the things you say,
and you also pointed out
how I see things before you do
And I might seem like a know-it-all,
but ironicaly, I do these to learn about you.
And unlearn my past mistakes and habits,
to learn how to love you better
so I can be worthy of a future with you
and be so good for you.
teach me. help me.

The people from your hometown and I
got something big in common;
we always wait for you.
And your words.
They complete and make our days.
If not all, then most days.
We await news from you
like a rooster would wait for sunshine
before it sings in the morning.
Like I would wait for you
to tell me you adore me before I can sleep,
and wake and repeat this all over again.

On my own,
I would probably *****
and gallop around
like an untrained horse,
just doing whatever I please.
But with himㅡmy master, my rider,
I became a tamed, seasoned
and trained champion.
When he's on top of me,
he trots with glee,
when we jump
and into the air we flee;
I feel like I would be sold
with a worth far more than
a brand new Ferrari.
On my own, I am but a restless beast;
But when we canter together,
we grace the lands
and weather the storm,
we ride with such majesty
and with much ease and joy.

I have been walking in a dark cave
for quite a long time,
Never felt more caged and jailed,
as if I've committed a heinous crime.
Defeated and bruised
from the gold rush,
I heard songs of victory
in your calm and hush.
Little did I know,
I was just passing through,
forgetting all the woes and blues,
I walk towards my gold mine,
Threw all of my lights on the line,
Left my knives by the door, risking my life.
And little did you know,
you wouldn't just walk with me
through the dark,
but would even dance with me
right on my mark.
When I felt like I was
in an eternal night,
you came marching along,
my valiant knight.
Now we walk hand-in-hand,
I can see the light from our land.
Waiting for us there is our *** of gold.
I have all the riches in the world
from your kisses and by your hold.

I didn't even ask him
what kind of music he digs,
for his voice alone
is my new favorite record.
I didn't bother finding out
his kind of taste in music,
for my newfound orchestra
comes from his lips.

I didn't even ask him
what kind of films he watch,
for even reality feels like a movie
when he came from the side door,
that's a film I've never seen before.
The ****** is when I was falling
and he was there, ever ready,
waiting and willing to catch me.

I didn't even find out
what kind of books he reads,
for his way with words
is already a novel of poetry.
I didn't even dare ask him
what he thinks of the bible,
for his articles and greetings
alone are my homily.

I didn't even find out
if our taste in music, cinema and literature matches and if I should go otherwise.
You only do that in shallow,
short-lived connections.
I didn't even bother finding out
if our taste in things aligns,
for he already spiced up my
underseasoned life.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet you fill me up, overflowing with feelings,
feelings that I have yet to feel,
let alone even believe.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet I find myself being able to give you more,
right when I thought
I could no longer give.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
so we throw away our old fragile mugs,
take out the fine, gold-rimmed glasses
and we began to clink.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
so we took out a bottle,
carefully tasting by drips,
and into the night we drink.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
So we threw a feast,
with only us two as guests,
until it's the dawn
and even then we still celebrate.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet we clink, drink and celebrate together,
finish one bottle after the other
because you know we have
a fair surplus of wine
down in our cellar

A line from a favorite movie of mine goes;
"Marriage isn't romantic,
that's why God invented poetry."
And I could not get it out of my mind.
So much that it kept me up for two nights.
That what if I am to become a wife,
life would be a never ending strife?
What if I can only sit still with a book,
but as soon as I am someone's woman,
I am a runaway and a crook?
What if I can only well rhyme my poems,
but affection for my husband
is something I would always owe him?
What if I am only clever with my riddles,
but fall short with my duties as a maiden?
What if I am only a good artist,
but bad in marriage?
What if I am ideal in theory,
but repulsive in practice?
What if I am a better lover,
but only in my letters?
What if only in fantasy am I a good writer,
but in reality as a foe am I better?

I said,
"This is only gonna be a summer thing".
For six weeks, you can have me
as your shiny bling.
I would let myself get lost
in your ocean's blue,
but only until the first drop of rain in June.
I would let myself drown in joy,
be your new toy, but boy,
I never thought "summer"
would be our most favorite ploy.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
But then we live in far-flung distances,
stretching and bending from east to west.
Summer is here, spring is his,
when it's rainy where I am, he's at ease.
And when I'm feeling the summer breeze,
It's as if I could almost hear him sneeze.
And when summer comes where he is,
I am the one who's cold and about to freeze.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
but when my summer is over,
his summer is just beginning.
And when his summer is around the corner,
my summer is yet again just starting.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
says she who lives in the tropics,
where summer is all-year long.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
says he whose heart she has melted,
summer is forever and winter is long ago.

But he's out there standing tall,
making a difference
while I'm sitting here, falling short,
staying the same.

But he's far away, far-sighted
and breaking new grounds,
while I'm at arm's length, half-blind
and on the verge of breaking his heart.

And every day he's fulfilling
a bigger purpose.
And come what may, I am only
writing of sad proses.

And he's moving relentlessly,
he's ever-growing.
And I'm staying stuck and dry,
I am simply withering.

From his stares,
I would most likely seem small.
And I think he knows
by now he have won.

With his touch,
I would most likely feel like a little girl.
And I'm trying to grow
So I'll try to go...

What do you say to fear when it settles in?
Do you ask it to leave?
Do you run away from it?
Or do you look it in the eye
and crawl closer in?
Do you befriend it?
Or do you swear it's enemy?
Do you set it on fire, cover its tracks?
Or do you run your hands
tenderly down its cheeks?

What do you do when fear takes over?
Do you fight it?
Or do you ask it of its favorite color?
Do you talk to it too soon
about the weather and the future,
hoping it leaves on its own so soon, too?
Or do you savour it slowly day by day,
and pray every night that it will stay?
Do you decide that you are bigger than mere emotions, or do you embrace that such a feeling can overpower even your body?

And what do you do when fear
finally runs away?
Do you kneel and thank the good heavens,
or do you bow and beg hell for it to return?
Do you stay in bed, curl up and cry,
or do you defy and run
the hundreds of miles?
Do you ask for it to stay
and settle down with you?
Do you surrender
and ask it to take over you?
Do you stay and surrender,
do you settle down and take over each other?
Do you accept the where and when
of the right here and right now,
or do you decide that there is no forever;
that even fear can flourish into brand new feelings, take you to new heights,
so new that you have no choice but to embrace it,
accept that such feelings can indeed overpower
your body, mind and spirit,
and encompass your logic, reason
and instincts?

Tell me, look me in the eye...
Crawl closer in...
Set me on fire, run your hands tenderly down my cheeks...
What do you say?
What do you do?

While I return and slow down
to the classics;
the film analog cameras,
vinyl records,
typewriters,
silent movies,
worn-out pocketbooks,
and other novelties
of the old world charm...

I also enjoy the convenience
of the contemporary;
my phone's one-click camera,
spotify premium,
notes app,
netflix,
kindle,
and other niceties
that the here and now has to offer...

And while I rev back
to the retro and vintage,
I also race forward
to the excitement and danger
brought about by the internet,
of chatting with a familiar stranger.
of exchanging laughters in electronic.
of feeling emotions from a vague, distant, technical, difficult source.

Oh, the thrill and tragedy of technology!

For an instance, we would meet and exchange passive glances
on the metro station for the very first time,
we're going to be looking at the same advertisement or propaganda poster,
knowing of each other's presence
but never acknowledging...
then we would ride the same train.
Perhaps we're holding on to the same railing but our fingers are never touching.
How I wish that was a busy monday morning instead of an easygoing
sunday evening,
so then I would've been smashed against you the moment I stepped foot in the train
or should've felt your body heat around me
at the very least.
Just like in the movies.

For an instance,
we would see each other for the first time
in a lazy corner coffee shop,
there are going to be about fourteen to twenty-seven people in.
There's you, me, the baristas, the harmony of your voice among the chatters of others.
Sadly, you were sitting with your back turned from me and fairly enoughㅡI am too, because we both hate looking at people's faces or being looked at while sipping our coffee.
Or maybe I'll choose one of the high stools for the time being, forgetting the fact that my back would hurt after half an hour.
I'll pretend to be productive while you're in one of those couches, and God knows what you're trying to pretend about?
That you didn't notice me as I walked by?
When you know so well that your whole atmosphere and realm just shifted for good?
Oh, this is why I like you in the first place,
you're a bit funny, too.

But what if we'd first talk on a record store?
You're rummaging through alternative rock while I slowly feel the new wave record sleeves run through my already dusty fingers, slightly tapping them too with the beat of the store's background music.
Not knowing of each other's presence,
I'll turn to the isle and see you there.
You check me out, you're preoccupied but you still paid me a glance,
before giving me a faint, subtle smile.
I'll smile back at you sweetly and my heart will then have to faint a bit, too.
Or we might both be looking for the exact same album, how idealistic.
But unlike the movies, we'll talk about it instead of fighting over who saw it first.
And who should get to bring it home.
We would both be surprised of each other's preference in music, possibly amazed.
Or perhaps a little in love already,
one foot down in the grave.
Either way, I would know right away we would touch and create melodies, just like needle to record grooves.

It could be on a mountain trail,
a near-death experience, on a hospital, on a beach or in the middle of the ocean,
a museum, my birthday, the airport, EDSA, your grandpa's death anniversary;
any location and any scenario,
there would be no better place
and no better moment.
Because the very moment and time
we would meet for the very first time
Would be the best way right away.
However.
Wherever.
Whenever?
No I wish, pray and beg it to be sooner.

I want to open my ports like never before
I want to welcome you into my shores
I spent months bending my trees
I spent weeks without sun or sleep
Until you came, my summer sky
I forgot about the heavy rains of December
I forgot about all the damages from November
I feel like I could even grow mountains
Like I'm brand new
I feel like an unnamed island again
Because of you

My new season
My summer sun
My rebirth
My new earth

Sweet envy,
I'm envious of how she was blessed by the gods to have looked into your eyes, eye to eye. To study their color and watch how they look when you lie.
She knows the way you blink and how you close them when you sleep at night.
I hate thinking how you've both spent some nights.
The thought of her taking granted of breathing the same air as you boils my blood.
I'm jealous of how she was able to graze her fingers upon your skin, let them travel across your back
and how her hand once held yours... only to foolishly, finally and thankfully let them go.
I curse and bless the day she broke your heart.
I curse each day that I have to live with this jealousy.

Holy jealousy,
I'm jealous of the kind of jealousy you've made her feel, like when you would glance at another girl when you're together.
Or how you'd talk to a girl in a cafe or bookstore when you thought she wasn't looking over her shoulder.
Or how you'd talk to anyone about anything at all without uttering her name.
I'm jealous of how you two probably used to stand across each other in a room and throw blames.
I could imagine countless of scenarios but then
I also imagine I'm the one feeling that too.
I can take that any day, as long as we're together too.
Because the only jealousy I feel is jealousy of your past. This fiery envy towards your history.

****** history,
I'm reading into every words you said like memoirs and piecing every excerpt trying to look for answers. Answer as to how and whyㅡhow she broke your heart and why she did it.
Would you change a thing about everything you did?
I ask and scream these questions to the moonlight.
Yet if you tell me and show me the answers yourself, there's not a single battle that I would win and fight.
Yet I search for clues in every old photo, in every message and through my sly, secret ways.
Must I scour every corner and highway?
So I can come up with answers to my own 'how and why'? How can I mend your broken heart?
Why do I love you this much?

Because above all, I am a revolutionary.
I acknowledge my envy, work through my jealousy and respect your history.
But then again, with every dark history comes the need for revolution and change.
And I am the catalyst who will spearhead that game.
I am your new age.
I am your renaissance.
I am your vengeance, nirvana, revolution and everything at once.