Now I am tranquil-
ized with the low light
of a fairly good star
planted serenely
in my Atlantic
and out there where
a lonely gull cries
dipping a wing
to the sea singing
a sleepy lullaby
in a language that Vargas
and I know so well
so, goodnight my angels
tomorrow will bring us
something akin to
a new day we can say
in one voice, Hallelujah
I am alive.

Lay me down
      in those fields  
         of silken flowers
        where the buzzing
        over our heads
       whirls us into
   lightspun holy
my dress a metaphor
for loneliness
as you lift it off
and let it disintegrate
into the evening's
electric ether
your lips
    undoing the tight
       leather laces
        that have held my
     heart in place
until now
Now.
undo them
   in unfurled totality
let my feminine essence
drip, in non-verbal words
onto your fingers
let my elements
   light you up
    from within
firebrand sunset
in molten metallic sheen
indigo lip of ocean
melding into crackling
            hiss of earth
               and humming
                   under this
                dark rich loam
              tiny vibrating buds
     sprout from fossils
trilobites become
hazy with new moss
seething insects
lay eggs and spawn
feeling the bloodpulse,
that simmer of surface
in slick magnet energy
Curled stems of wild
poppies and zinnia
tie down my wrists
snake around my thighs
clasp my
tender-***** ankles
as if to open me
up even more
than I thought
            my soul
                   could go
and I do not resist
for soon they will
accompany you
as you decorate my
deepest womb
              with blossoms          
filling me with your
soul's seed
your musk-scented fervor
nestled, subaqueous
into the root of
my sweet
       deep
of  
  need

Beautiful sadness,     walk with me awhile
and let me tell you,      stories of sorrow.

slithered
harangue,

crow's nest's
caveat:

quo warranto,
Echo,
obliquity weaver...

Once upon a time,
i had a book i read nightly....without fail.
t'was a compendium of impossible dreams,
big plans, summaries of late night talks
on "long-shots-but-worth-a-try," stuff,
...our very own fairy tales, where we
wished for magic wands and wings,
written on nights when sleep was elusive,
when bottles of cold beer had lost their effect.
talks were long...my fingers grew tired, for,
my guitar wept with sad songs....t'was then
i learned to pour martini...into my coffee.

::::::::::::::::::
lost my guitar one day, got busted....but, life's
many notes and tunes, played on with time.
eclipses shaded the already dimmed horizon,
floods ruined boxes of souvenirs...stamped,
handwritten...with ribbons of silver and gold...
people died, some left...some fell out of love,
moved near the mountains, others left their
preferred milieus...for uncomfortable zones...

the moon, looking down from mountaintops,
was a witness to tears...of sufferings,
.....realization, and of acceptance.

when nights refused to end,
when the howling of distant dogs, echoed
and shattered the stillness of the night,
i question marked our tales with suspended
endings...tore off  unfulfilled, hopeless pages,
i crossed out those with "no forever afters,"
only a few pages were left......so, i began
creating new plots......and new settings
i added new characters, and new twists,
all written in the midst of unholy hours
.......til a new dawn....proclaimed itself...
:::::
to this day,
i write my own fairy tales, with no beer, definitely
i still have my night coffee...though sans martini
......it could be black, or with its mating cream,
....and all the dark curves and swirls, in between...
:::::
"a long shot, but worth a try," it may seem,
...yet, i do wish, i could put some sugar and cream
......upon everyone's dark, and bitter coffee...
:::::

Sally

Copyright June 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I didn't really want too . . .
I didn't want to go there . . .
I didn't want to test it
You see I still have
all of my fears

Still I couldn't help it . . .
I hit the button play . . .
And as the music started
Please God I prayed

The room turned to purple
As Prince began to play
I looked back upon the memories
Of a love I held once upon that day

As the purple rain fell in torrents
My purple tears began to fall
Now all I have to hold on to
Is the music between these walls

"I didn't want to hurt you
I didn't want to cause you any pain"

And as the tears turned into rivers
They overflow with purple pain

there is a bit of self deprecation amid  the best poets grandeuer
and a lot of ego in the madness between the lines
blank spots are filled with it
the ink dries on the curses of fame
the white part which says so much
was never wet

I’m coming apart at the seams
No longer sprint like a deer
Except in occasional dreams
I struggle in my yoga class
Since getting titanium hips
The lotus and pigeon I pass
It’s so difficult to apply
Mascara to my lashes
I look in the mirror and sigh…
I can’t see without my glasses
But it’s difficult to ignore
Those itchy, mystery rashes
It’s over, now, wearing short skirts
Got to keep knobby knees hidden
While I try exercise in spurts
Joints in my ankles hips and knees
Are letting me down so fast
That climbing stairs is no breeze
I’m shrinking, less one inch this year
My hands crawling with blue veins
Spelling out, “THE END IS NEAR"