In my entourage
people laugh
I got used to it.

In my center stage
I was the comedian
who never likes
his job.

In my closing remarks
their entertainment
was fulfilled.
I on the other hand
got drained
from my mistakes
turned to be pretty
funny,
never was that
my intention.

flowing words that ripples through,
painted pain in the waters
waiting to be
understood.

Don’t come to the cemetery at night Peter Xalxo would say
If you are so inclined make your visits in the day
For often in the evening when exam worries were gone
I would go to the cemetery and sit on some tombstone.

I think boy the ones from the other world make visits at nights
And they would not love to find living souls upon their sights
Why intrude their peaceful home and not leave them there alone
When the time after the sunset they think to exclusively own!

Having said this with a grave face he would lower his voice still low
While on nightly posts at the graves I’ve seen in the dark some glow
And at moonlit nights on duty’s round heard footsteps around me
I would advise boy not to step into at night at the cemetery.

He used to tell more such tales to instill in the boy some fear
But come the next evening and at the cemetery I would reappear
For I loved the moon bathed solitude the trees’ darkened shed
The tranquility of the place in quiet company of the dead!

All said I wouldn’t leave out in this account one truthful fact
Uncle Peter’s stories had some effect some impact
They colored my times at the cemetery spent at nights alone
I seemed to feel they were moving the graves’ marble stone.

Then one night as I was coming out around nine o’clock
To my horror found the gate closed with an iron lock
Bewildered I stood there knowing no other ways to go
When there appeared a shadow heard the voice of Peter Xalxo.

I told you boy not to loiter here not disturb their peace of night
This ground here the dead walks now though beyond your sight
Run home and never come back his voice in whisper talked
Some more words he mumbled before got the gate unlocked.

That night at the dinner table my father told mom this
He was such a good man and a great friend to miss
But God only decides in his garden which flower to pluck
Peter Xalxo died this evening suffered a heart attack.

It makes me look weak,            
                        My tears leaks…      
                My eyes are sore          
        My heart is a bore          
  and My body repeats a painful encore.              

                  I dust away the sad memories,                                        
but it comes along like it’s my adversaries.                  

I hate sadness
It shakes my reality, a piercing faithfulness
                towards my soulful unhappiness.

I don’t need help,
    but in truth I am lying to myself.

You’ll never know, what comes and goes
    yet I am stuck between my toes.

I hunger for that light
    but all that comes is my arresting night.

Perhaps I am doom with my own gloominess.
Starvation and Weariness
                  is a consolation of my messiness
~ a choice with laziness,
         to ponder and wonder
                    to the world’s unending sadness.



*© Pax  September, 2013

Our humanity has nothing
To do with your ego...*


@pax

I wrote a poem
hoping to give
it to you, will you
even read it?

I wrote it with an aching
heart, will you
ever read it?

The poem I wrote
was given a melody,
will you, will you
even hear it?

I am not a singer
nor a great writer
but will you
even hear my
heart?

will you?


© Pax

Call me old fashioned
But I dream of a love that's true
One where my better half means
the things that they say && do

Where photos of other women
On social media, among other places
Mean nothing to them compared
To the look we share between our faces

Where they're not constantly on the look out
For someone better to come along
Because they know deep down that being
With anyone else would just feel wrong

Maybe they'd know that I was the one
Right from the very start
Or maybe it would take time for them
to open up their heart

I'd go to the ends of the earth
To make sure they never felt alone
&& I hope that they'd do the same for me
That they'd let our love set the tone

So call me old fashioned
But I can't play these new aged games
My heart wasn't built to wander around
Once it finds a home, it wants to stay