brain dead for years
with a tin man’s ticker
lost in teenaged conveniences and comfort zones
walking through day dreams in the fetal position
tinnitus’ tones drowning out the music in my head
feeling like puzzle pieces forced together when they don’t really fit
like Frankenstein’s monster
limping and grunting through High School
struggling through classes with some zombie’s ears
ditching often to go to the bowling alley
graduating unprepared in an inverted reality
with polluted brown skies and a blue world
wearing the same blue shirt and blue jeans everyday
wrapped up tight like a blue eggroll
futility’s fortune cookie foreseeing only deafness and poverty
hating life and self –EVERYDAY!
then, somehow, a song crept under the veil
seeping through my tough outer veneers
it’s lyrics melting a hardness in my chest
it’s music coursing through my body like chi
exciting my Brownian motion
a simple message of finding oneself
delivered in powerful, rich, soulful baritone
stamped with profound, moving emotional range
inflection mounting upon reflection
it’s chorus and theme reverberating
I played that record over and over again
listening with my toenails
I decided right then and there to give it a try
that “learning to love yourself”* is a good thing
and that ‘good thing’ was who and what I wanted to be

not a morning person
she’s content to hide in leafy shadows
wildly overgrown purple and green vines
surround and ensnare her
beneath a canopy of pink antique tea roses

she stands inside a maple platform
designed and handcrafted with care
three asymmetrically positioned 2 by 4 risers raise her
about a foot off the ground
two golden plaster cherubs hover above her on either side
fine grayish wood grain, like carpenter’s fingerprints
peek out through faded cerulean backboards
a painted backdrop made translucent by exposure
fresh cut miniature roses in miniature vases
brighten the stage like foot lights
behind the platform, at the back of the cave
clumps of ferns intermittently reveal
mud swirls splashed on a mint colored wall
up front, a row of marigolds and strawberry plants
embank a retaining wall border
of cabana-like sculpted brick
glistening white quartz stream before her
like a river of rocks at her feet
completing the grotto

she comes alive as the afternoon sun
brings out the color in her cheeks
she steps out from the shadows
and stretches her arms out close by her sides
palms facing outward
fingers pointing down
as if something were emanating from her hands
while she blesses us with peaceful contemplation

the sun is setting across the pond
silhouetting the tree line
with its golden fire
mirroring on the water
rippling with the wind
seems the catfish are getting big
"I wonder how much
my granddaughter has grown?"
the clouds are scribbled in wisps
no discernable shapes to ponder
such a lonely sky

Heart ****** to death
“Do you need the paramedics?”
Life and Death is three quick breaths
And 15 pumps
Or was it 11, or 22?
Where are they?
One deep rale
Where are they?
"Anung nung yari qui daddy?"
Eyes rolled up to GodDid you see a light?
Fatal heart won’t live through night,
Weekend, two weeks, re-evaluate
“Dey dun’t know daddy.  He’s a fighter.”
Alone in CCU committed act of faith
with laid hands on experience.
Comatose body wholly heaving with Holy contact
Then silence, stillness
Transfers, therapy, rehabilitation
Sent home by HMO
Came home first night to check on you:
Blotted brow and utterance
“Just try to go to sleep”
Came home one day to check on us
Then entered Jacob’s sleep
Headstone scarred by lawnmowers
Grass envelopes me
Gives me hug…you never did
Yet tears are all I see
Heart knows utterance by heart
“Fin, take care of mama.”
Heart de-virged through pain and loss
Salamat po Pops

mud from the cemetery
everyday on his boots and clothing
and everyday he'd wash the shovels
muddy water like a river
muddy red waters
the graves are dug deep like a cliché
six feet under
too small for a back ***
so down he jumps
digging deeper
from cemetery to cemetery
in rain or by moonlight
he works hard every night
till his calluses bleed
a muddy white truck
and muddy wooden handled tools
the perfect cover
you'd think he worked there
he scopes the obits
looking for fresh funerals
he prefers meat on the bones
there's no profit in grave robbing
no one is buried wearing valuables
and there's no market for dead body parts
he just likes the smell of formaldehyde
the vacated looks on their faces
and the occasional surprise
when he finds one with open eyes

moving forward from A to B
to eternity
from milliseconds to eons
from a tick of the clock
to a heartbeat
to a lifetime
each measure, a length of string
determined by Fates
or a burning wick
in a roomful of candles
where nothing can be earned

time spent
time left
with universes in between
life's images captured in a puddle
harmonic resonance ripples through the calm
radiating outward
energy rebounding and returning to stillness

reflections of a harvest moon
on white rushing waters
blue electricity crackling on crest tops
as waves unfurl on shores
and return to oceans
a vision viewed since antiquity
moments of time shared with ancients
and generations
tallied by stars and grains of sand

a peaceful puddle
reflections rippled by wind
a calmness of soul
mirroring the earth's stillness
illuminated by life

a child's biggest grin
running, stomping and splashing
exuberance flies
peacefulness replaced by joy
returns to wait for next child

“Dad got robbed again”
he got paid every Friday
and got robbed each week
too drunk to run or resist
dark clad ninja lookin’ dude

“Dad got robbed again”
he never did pay the bills
drank his salary
were it not for my income
don’t know how we would survive

we managed somehow
“Dad got robbed again”, she said
do you think she knew
food was on the table ‘cause
the dark clad ninja was me


Del Maximo
(c) 2009

familial fractal
mitochondrial pieces of self-similarity
irregular patterns of DNA
each piece clearly resembling the whole
mirroring mirrors
an illness in the matriarchy
reflecting on each member
rippling and radiating
in family circular airwaves
time disrupted
suspended in hope
souls standing still
so quiet you can hear a heartbeat

thoughts, prayers and well wishes
pouring out to fill in the gaps
of uncertainty
pillars of strength in my weakness
as I drown myself in caloric comfort
I’m not too good with life and death
haven’t had much practice
we’ve been lucky

energy’s vibrations
the universe’s common thread
everything is part of everything
each person a contributor to the whole of society
each person contributing to the soul of the individual
psychologically, spiritually, physiologically
we affect each other in ways
not immediately apparent
truly, everyone is part of everyone
connected in oneness
your outpouring of kindness reminds me of that

expectant eyes turn skyward
to a faint familiar sound
the falling snow hypnotizes
as I breathe in it’s cleanness

the calmness in me begins to grow
on my cheeks a cold blushing glow
as delicate feather soft flakes smile
and sweetly kiss my lashes and face

lace upon lace builds a quilt of ice
weaving a blanket of fresh fallen white
standing still, I listen so intently
to the quiet hush of snow falling gently

God loves a river
a gentle flowing current
or raging rapids
Flora and Faunus preside
breathing life to the waters

she wades in hip boots
while checking in on her friends
to tree frog greetings
blessing all with her vision
seeing to it all is well

the sun smiles on her
this river nymph from the shore
ecology's eyes
she keeps the rivers healthy
as she walks through the waters

beautiful blackbirds
ebony adorned from head to foot
camouflaged for stealth
in shadows and night time sky
sleek sateenic sheen
iridescence of well oiled machine
efficient avian predators
ruthless in their call
attacking nested eggs and fledglings
with never ending caw
boldly bantering by day
foraging in parks, parking lots, streets and alleys
searching for food with eerie, ethereal, slow motion hops
seemingly phasing, at will, out of sync with time
ancient spirit travelers to another plane
they watch the world with weary eyes
spying and recording the day’s events
atop skies, trees and telephone lines
then whispering into the ears
of gods and poets and cornfields

on a starless, moonless evening
a fissure quakes open
as time stands still
stench gasses hiss

a fissure quakes open
the earth moans hauntingly, eerily
stench gasses hiss
an unmarked corner of the cemetery

the earth moans hauntingly, eerily
an unspeakable evil imprisoned
an unmarked corner of the cemetery
hidden from the vaults of hell

an unspeakable evil imprisoned
stone angels stand their ground
hidden from the vaults of hell
great is their power

stone angels stand their ground
an aura of authority
great is their power
without words the trembling ceases

an aura of authority
quieting the yawning earth
without words the trembling ceases
closing its lips tight

quieting the yawning earth
silent sentinels prove their worth
closing its lips tight
no evil will escape tonight

silent sentinels prove their worth
on a starless, moonless evening
no evil will escape tonight
as time stands still

just inside the door
he gasps for air
laboring, I think, not to hold on
but to let go
his heaving, quickened shortness of breath
disheartening
each movement a moment in pain
his wizened face and body
recognizable
but so very hard to witness
the family is stronger than me

just inside the door
his mother and daughter
holding his hands
to give him whatever peace they can
not a comforting for themselves, but for him
one he can sense and feel and know

just outside the door
we wait with other waiters
groups of other families congregating
visiting and supporting loved ones
but mostly waiting
as death seems not impatient

just outside the door
people are talking and laughing
little children are playing
life goes on
as we hold back the tears

just inside the door
there is no hope for recovery
his cancer incurable
his suffering long

just inside the door
a drug induced peace
a restlessness
as hearts are kept waiting
to bid a final farewell

from full to three fourths, to half, to quarter
then from darkness back to new
all the moon’s phases in mere minutes
I’ve seen pictures on the internet
a beautiful sight to behold
to watch her silvery bleu cheese
turn into a reddish cantaloupe
perhaps her face is embarrassed
to admit its heavenly glow
is but the sun’s reflection
perhaps she’s forgotten her place
in the earth’s natural order
she is not less, but equal
yin to sun’s yang
lost in the moment
she changes her mind quickly
emerging from earth’s shadow
she feels contentment in sun’s warmth

once in January’s wee hours
so very long ago
I spent the night outside
as backyard astronomer
telescope at the ready
awaiting a comet’s promise
a party of others crescendoed
suspense’s energy and excitement
but their numbers quickly waned
with the fogging of my telescope lens
coldness prevailing over patience
I sat alone for hours hanging on to hope
in the company of trash cans
sitting in silence as solemn sentinel
they said it would light one third of the sky
ONE THIRD!
a sight never to be seen again in lifetimes
I waited for its brightness and brilliance
until dawn started to peek out
over the eastern horizon
just then a sparkle of light preceded the rising sun
is this it?
could this be Kohoutek?
it seemed to slowly climb into the morning
as it approached and grew bigger
I realized it was just an airplane
what a rip off
what a wasted night
I was robbed
cruelly cast in the role of Kohoutek’s fool
nothing to do now
but bring my frozen telescope inside
and jump into a nice warm bed

will she be kinder?
will Luna eclipse that memory?
will her heavenly glory
be worth the cold and the wait?
I sat on the edge of my mattress
gathering the covers upon my shoulders
should I go?
nah
maybe next time
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

dropped hard to the floor
the crumpled sound of dead weight
his cracked skull oozing
lifeless body releases
blood, ***** and seepage run

the stench of death fades
bones gnawed clean by sated rats
start to fossilize
just another new entry
in his basement collection


Del Maximo
© September 18, 2009

whose flowers are these?
who brought them to the gravesite
and arranged them with such care?
placing each flower individually
every week a kaleidoscope of color
pastel petals wrapped in green stems, leaves and ferns
bouquets speaking softly from the heart
conversations of love and respect
unspoken words of connection and affection
painting a picture of impressionistic serenity
amid grass and tombstones
who cared about him this much, besides us?
who cares about him still?

I miss you my dear
forgive the desecration
couldn't help myself
you left me so suddenly
leaving a hole in my heart

I couldn't let go
just had to keep you near me
I dug up your bones
on our anniversary
it would have been our 13th

beautiful in life
a beautiful skeleton
I took your femur
then reburied your remains
I hope you don't mind, my dear

I cut off both ends
burning them down to ashes
ceremonial
rubbing them into my skin
wailing and wearing sackcloth

hollowing the rest
burning holes in their places
forming a new flute
haunting, soulful melodies
bittersweet consolations

dance of the onions
peeling layers one by one
amid sighs, whispers
enchanting melodies of
a 3000 year old song

finger cymbals chime
anklet's bells jingle their tale
incense and perfume
pastel colored veils swirling
hips gyrating and thrusting

her face is unseen
hidden in a mist of clouds
in a moonless sky
stars twinkling in her navel
as she moves to the music

longing beyond lust
she is dancing on my heart
but just out of reach
as if it were all a dream
inspired by night jasmine



Del Maximo
© August 24, 2009

what's wrong with my world?
peeps not coming through for me
saps my energy
missed deadlines, not showing up
they can't seem to do the math

talkin' 'bout good peeps
I don't know what's happening
it makes me tired
there's too much hustle-bustle
going on in today's world

guess I got away
from always expressing thanks
thankfulness echoes
reverberates, creating
circles of random kindness

so that must be it
got to get back to "thank you"
thank you everyone
for your kindness, timeliness
and just for being good peeps

thanks especially
to the Great God/Universe
copier machine
whatever I put out there
I get copies back, THANK YOU


Del Maximo
© August 7, 2009

beach’s brightness and heat
soothe weary skin and bones
so good to feel warmth upon shoulders
and sand between toes
reminiscing in familiar scents
of cool salty breezes
and warm sun tan lotions
shaded eyes swimming in clean ocean’s blueness
witnessing waves’ wonder
as a wet world walks onto a dry one
so many people seeking refuge
in rest and recreation
so many voices volleying beach *****
and tossing frisbees
so many feet leaving 1,000,000 footprints
rendered shapeless in loose grains
casting shadows in cups of sand
as day wanes and crowds disperse
curiosity ponders this micro desert of mini dunes
who has walked here through the eons?
who walks here still?
the setting sun shimmers on the sea
sparkling upon 1,000,000 crests
surface tension of the ocean’s tableau
rippled by wind and gravity
driven by earth’s rotation
forming floating cups of golden iridescence
resembling footprints in the sand
moved by their beauty, curiosity ponders
did someone walk upon these waters?
does someone walk there still?

let me play for you
come hear my fibrillation
improvisations
reverberating on breeze
in synchronizing rhythms

let me share with you
muse inspired whisperings
reaching deep places
hallowed bamboo offerings
interpretations of air

let me catch the wind
split the stream inside my flute
tonic fingerings
let it oscillate and grow
healing melodies for you


Del Maximo
© March 23, 2009

respite from the rain
gloomy monday morning blahs
a grayness pervades
stratus covers mountain tops
another storm is brewing

off in the distance
beyond the metro-skyline
beyond the tree line
a break opens in cloud's veil
a pulling of the curtain

in one little spot
a window of horizon
snow and ice shine through
blinding white titanium
on sparkling powdery peaks

rush hour traffic
along my morning commute
through city's drabness
an eye opening vista
of nature's magnificence


Del Maximo
(c) January 24, 2010

time moves forward
winding through galaxies
coursing through milkyways
pulsing through universes
hanging on heartbeats
yesterday, today and tomorrow
happening concurrently
burned onto disks stacked on top of each other
lifetimes skipping tier to tier
peeking through veils of reality
scoping inward to Brownian motion
zooming outward to life’s whole
energy flowing freely through meridians
navigating congestion and voids
finding balance in life’s peaks and valleys
like electrocardiograms
my lifereadings on paper
lately I’ve been flatlining
routines can be boring
drudgery stagnates
maybe I’m just physically tired
maybe I’m tired of life
caught behind a rock in a river
awaiting a cataract to break me free
and restore the song of life’s flow
maybe I’m an insignificant speck of dust
a blip off life’s radar
or maybe the smallest piece of jigsaw
is an equal part of the whole

just a sliver of silver
the orb's bright edge
peeking out behind a dull gray silhouette
falling to the horizon
in line with L. A.'s flight path
the darkness came early tonight
will the stars come out
in the moonlessness?

once laid my back in pitch black
on the sand at the Salton Sea
sky gazing
excitment stole my sleep
as eye witnessed the galaxy
is it an illusion
like water in the desert
or are the stars so numerous they appear milky?

I look for him in winter
three close stars in a straight line
Orion watches over scorpions and dogs
I follow the Big Dipper
pointing to the North Star
sky's center
the mother of all constellations
they encircle her
each telling her their stories in turn
the Ancients looked up and listened
transcribing what they thought they heard

now-a-days
with science preferred to mythology
and exact measurements to imagination
the stars twinkle silently
mocking us in mute mystery
and unshared secrets
gaze upward in wonder of the tales they hold
paying homage to their beauty and tranquility
listen carefully and patiently for their whispers
you may still hear a story or two
as they teach us to dream

shoot the moon
the sky is falling
he doesn’t have a clue
he can’t figure it out
he doesn’t want to
holding on to the past like crutches
punched, choked and slammed
like a Saturday night smackdown
he was his father’s “favorite”
wrestling verbal belittlements of brotherly shame
“Stop crying.  You’re acting like a female.”
his mother escaped the battle cage and sent for him later
abandonment and authority issues
anger internalized and rising to a peak
he dropped out of high school
a crumpled, broken man-child
a stone child
having only dreams left intentionally vague
falling to his addictions and ****** anesthesia
afraid of moving forward
he likes it in limbo
waiting for life to happen for him
expecting others to help
but he won’t help himself
exploiting every excuse
words and actions biting the hands that feed him
pushing people away
assigning blame with pointed fingers
campaigning for sympathy with crocodile tears
tip toeing silently
the years creep up and sneak by
he’s a full step slower
like an aging prize fighter
unable to bob and weave society’s jabs
punch drunk he says, “no más”
withdrawing to the streets
he says, “no más”
“no más”


Del Maximo
© October 8, 2009

panhandling daily
sympathy cards all used up
tired of all this
slashes his wrists then sits down
on the curb eating pizza

his blood dripping down
his mind is on the pizza
does not care to live
EMT's take him, fix him
72 hour hold

dude's a survivor
gets psyche evaluation
returned to the streets
proudly bragging about it
to anyone who listens

came to my office
asking my friend for some change
friend's a minister
rejected, the dude cusses
picture of humility

he doesn't ask me
he knows what my answer is
done enough for him
all I can do is just wait
then spray the air freshener

a delicious treat
for such a sweet little girl
she was soooo hungry
look in her eyes said it all
voracious, insatiable

finger licking good
greazy slimy decadence
nice presentation
gray matter smattered with blood
escargot consistency

sated and happy
she rested in the corner
basement was quiet
not thinking or caring much
just pleased to eat daddy's brains



Del Maximo
© September 26, 2009

birth
life
death
rebirth
a rim tone’s soft cry (wah-wah)
emerging above a drum-like
basso profundo
chaotic cadence
harmony in vibrato
a singing bowl’s sustain dying
to be born again and again
the universe without and within
inhaled into the mind’s eye
traversing core’s essence
expelled through nostrils

meditation in slow motion
posture strung from rafters
a twisting waist
yin and yang separate
but equal
beautiful lady wrists
synchronized to calm, deep breaths
a diffused gaze focusing
on quiet power inside you
chi strong enough to stop time
as you move within a cylinder of silence
thinking about nothing
each movement with a memory of its own
a life time in yang long form
closing down to wu shu
the universe within and without
and in each breath
birth
life
death
rebirth

my eyes are tired
of drinking daylight
a breeze rustles the vines
outside my window
will it be cool tonight?
the phone goes unanswered
the tv remains off
it's time to rest
upon my pillow
there is nothing but darkness
phosphenes
the sound of ears ringing
and dreams of you

worthiness of stars
ants and lillies of the field
little gray sparrows
the sun is a speck of dust
universe's perspective

all encompassing
He rains on the just and unjust
throughout life's puzzle
but the sun's gotta shine on
a dog's *** sometime, ya know?

it seems so unfair
trial and error parenting
consumed by harshness
lashing out with cruelty
in never ending cycles

who you have become
seeing the things you hold dear
the flight of an owl
a sapphire bluest lake
a woman to share your life

you know who you are
the person you are inside
you turned out all right
an intelligent wise ***
handling demon's whisperings

somehow you made it
some kinda way you found out
learned it on your own
inspite of evil's face, you're
worthy of every good thing

~blessed be

one crisp morning commute
driving down Rodeo Blvd.
I came across a cloud of leaves
a city block long
hovering like hummingbirds in the street
jiggling to the beat
of each passing vehicle
caught up in the car's drafts
rush hour traffic
would not allow them to fall
hundreds of small green and yellow dots
standing at attention
waving like beauty queens
twirling like dervishes
leaping and spinning in pirouettes
doing cartwheels and somersaults
each tumble tickling my delight
as playful patterns emerged
you could see their musicality
fallen foliage dancing to a silent symphony
suspended in mid air
out of sync with reality
as I, in turn, drove through in slow motion

For Dr. Suess

Who can hear you?
He who hears Whos
Wish I could hear half as well
And what is a Who anyhow?
Do such tiny people really exist?
Is the town of Who-ville a true ville?
Perhaps if I had elephant ears
Maybe I could hear a Who too
As it is I can hardly hear you
But last night in a dream
Horton whispered his secret
An axiom kind and smart:
You only listen with your ears
You hear people with your heart

rising above aeries
thermalizing warm updrafts
arms and fingers outstretched and lifting
holding his head up and following his nose
escaping the earth
basking in sweet respite from routine
a lightness of being
floating towards sky
enjoying the rush of new found freedom
feeling the wind beneath him
hearing no other sounds
as clouds sing cerulean blues
but even liberty has limitations
and nature has her secrets
feathers, string and wax are no match
his youthful exuberance flew too high
climbing too fast
reaching sun before understanding
accomplishment without comprehension
unearned knowledge
feathers fall out in bunches amidst frantic fluttering
dreams crash like Icarus wings
in pieces on the ground

back in the washroom
back in here so many times
hope they don't notice
just here to wash up again
seems I can't get it off me

it's so hard waiting
sitting there waiting for news
seems it's been hours
since the ambulance took him
and I drove to my sister’s

picked her up at work
then we flew down the freeway
driving mindlessly
123 per
and coming up on a curve

I slowed down in time
made it to the hospital
explained what happened
told the nurses everything
to my sister's amazement

was a heart attack
and my dad had stopped breathing
I called 911
got CPR instructions
I did the best that I could

we had to sit there
waiting for the family
and waiting for news
but nothing was forthcoming
so we sat there in silence

it was just too much
and my mind started tripping
didn't need to go
but kept sneaking out to wash
my dad's breath off my moustache

Del Maximo
© June 28, 2009

her first Christmas tree
rising to the ceiling
the green scent of fresh pine permeates
papa put up all the lights
now it’s her turn
a treasure of ornaments
buried in tissue paper

a small, brightly colored stuffed menagerie
made by her Aunts and Uncles
when they were just kids
glittered, glistening plastic snow flakes
shiny, smiling ornaments of different sizes
and unusual shapes
most of them older than her
going back three generations

it’s quite a task
but Grandma said she could do it
unwrapping with care
choosing just the right placements

when she’s hung her last hook
my little niece stands back
aglow with happiness she whispers
“It’s perfect”


Del Maximo
© December 8, 2009

Electricity is out
Shut down by nature’s power
Ice’s storm break danced till dawn
Twisting branch, limb and tree trunk onto lawn
16 nights of darkness
16 days of frost
16 days without power
Yet not all is lost
Relaxation’s comfort found in front of fireplace
Sun’s light deferred, soaked up in greener days
Hearth felt spiritual warming in fire brewed cup of simplicity
Candlelight flickerings augment the serendipity
16 days without power and not a thought of TV
16 nights of quiet and stillness
Strangely appealing to me

I saw my sister today
painting clouds on a blue background
leaving trails like a sky writer
soaring above obstacles and problems
floating on feathers with spirit of eagles
keeping a watchful eye
feeding family
defending to the death
the mother of nature
a gliding cerulean mistress
I saw my sister today
flying high in the sky



Del Maximo
© November 12, 2009

hey little lady
the day is not over
there's plenty of fun to be had
we'll dance on the ceiling
with prancing pink ponies
we'll swaddle a saddle
and ride to the stars
we'll say, “pretty please”
to the man on the moon
and bounce in slow motion
upon his green cheese
then slide down a moonbeam
and glide on a breeze
we'll sail on the ocean
and listen to sea shells
a blanket of stars to keep warm
whenever you're ready
just give me the high sign
I'll rock you to sleep in my arms

come into the light
let me see your body’s glow
the stars in your eyes
let me feel the warmth of you
as we sit by the fire

let our bodies melt
melding into one spirit
an easy slowness
tasting sweet sweat of labor
let me slip inside your heart

close your eyes now, rest
while I sing you a love song
softly in your ear
cuddle closer in my arms
wrap yourself in me and sleep


Del Maximo
© September 5, 2009

bought me a woman off my bucket list
inexpensive as they go
she's so ****** pretty
she's got me giddy with excitement
a smooth, shiny, orange brown, maplewood body
with an hourglass figure
a long-necked rosewood fingerboard
a brazilwood bow with ebony frog
she wears her hair in a top knot scroll
held together by large ebony pegs
standing only on one leg
she’s tall for a stringed instrument
tune her up and rough up your rosin
hold her between your knees
hug her from behind
stroke her as she moans her mellow melodies
didn’t know if it would work out
but I love her so much I had to try
I’ve always loved her
but now I know
although I would hold her close
she sings her song for others
turning her face from me
so I can’t hear her voice
I have to let her go
let her make someone else happy
she was mine for a night
but there are no switches or dials
I can’t set my heart on temporary
maybe I’ll try again later
you can’t give up on love
perhaps an electric model with headphones
then she’ll sing her songs only for me

self doubt and questions
in an introspective mood
turning life inward
"Do the things I do matter?"
"Am I making a difference?"

the sun still rises
with the moon taking her turn
the seasons cycle
Winter waits for Spring's rebirth
Summer strolls till Fall's harvest

the world in His hands
in a plan to be trusted
yet life is our own
we're each in charge of ourselves
responsibility's choice

questions disappear
when I look at the children
reading their faces
discovering who they are
searching for identity

a compass points North
but life happens everywhere
guidance is needed
helping hands to push or ****
as each living map unfolds

experience teaches
giving lessons in cynicism
life is hard
so easy to help others
but who is there to help me?
must learn to leave intervention to professionals
my investments need returns
my heart needs to see improvements
but helpees turn the page and move on
when helpers purposes don’t serve them
devaluating and discarding friendship
loyalty’s load laid along the road
my objectives proved time wasted
people are who they are
let them live their own lives
and walk their own paths
they’re going to anyway
must choose wisely
find out what people want
discern a willingness to work hard
towards self proclaimed goals
act as a guide
step in only when necessary
walk away when warranted
and reserve my resources for me
and my friends

I was allowed to visit back home
whenever he wanted me to
adoption’s only condition
agreed to by Mama Julia

when I was about seven years old
Father and my older sister Coring
arrived unannounced
traveling in a boat he made himself
bringing gifts of large dried fish
small salted fish
green edible seaweed called, “latu”
and ceramic pots made by Mother

Father had never been to Carigara
but found the house with no trouble
everyone knew the Tranis
they directed him to the big house
called, “Tiha”
three stories
a tiled terracotta roof
coconut trees
sweet, fragrant yellow bananas
Mama Julia was away in Manila
old folks hesitated in her absence
fearing Father might keep me
they asked that he leave my older sister
to ensure my return
Father agreed

a very old friend accompanied Father
to sell her handmade pottery
very friendly
with messy white hair
and only one front tooth
her name was Reyang
they spent the night at Tiha
planning to leave early with me
but Apoy Reyang got drunk
from the tuba* Father brought
she went out into the street
walking and talking to herself
my friends told me later they liked the old lady
speaking wildly like a witch
we feared stories of bad witches
who snatched little kids
but no one ever actually saw one
so they were glad to see
a real live old witch
who wasn’t scary at all
they thought she was my grandma
actually envying me
for the nice witch in my family

Father built a mast in the middle of his banca
outriggers on both sides
were made of bamboo poles
lashed together with rope
sailing back to Guintarcan
he brought food to snack on
when wind stirred
Father raised sail
to make the boat go faster
when it was calm
he wrapped the sail on the mast
and used the paddle
I liked it when Father asked me
to hold something for him
but he spoke in a Samar dialect
when he realized I couldn’t understand him
he rephrased it the Carigara way

a perfect day
sea was calm
sky cloudless
I reached down to feel the cool, clear water
rush against my open hand
when the boat was moving faster
increased pressure on my palm was pleasing
I was happy and excited for the chance
to visit with family
but this adventure’s biggest thrill was simply:
my Father came for me


*coconut wine

don't know what it's like
to be super healthy
but I remember running at full speed
knees lifting high with long strides
fists pumping hard to keep my rhythm
with elite athletes cheering the fat kid on
I remember knocking down and through
every opponent on the football field
including my older brothers
no one could block me or get by me
I remember jumping shoulders above the rim
before slam dunks were popular
grabbing every rebound
and making court length passes
like they were nothing
I could kick a soccer ball
from end zone to end zone
and hit a softball into the next diamond
I could do more sit ups and push ups
than anyone thought a fat kid could
I've always been strong
my older brother called it my "brute" strength
meant as both compliment and put down
but I've never known lean and fit
they've always been strangers to me
health's basic formula has never changed
eat right, exercise, get plenty of rest
lean meats, fruit and vegetables
healthy fats and nuts
keeping fiber's eye on glycemic's index
portions are everything
green tea, vitamins, supplements
working out to burn the fat, baby
I've never known lean and fit
but we're going to get well acquainted
they're going to become my new middle name

Sunday was hot
bright lazy sunshine sizzled skin
cooled slightly by gentle breezes
animating soft shadows
warmly wafting ripe guava scents
skies of crisp crystal cerulean
a scattering of sweeping angel hair clouds
a half moon half smiling in the high afternoon
distant layered mountains display their looming majesty
long green grass awaits Wednesday's haircut
as Summer peeks through Spring
nothing left to want
but the sweet smell of salty seas
and you

alone in the dark
feeling the infiltration
porch lights and lamp posts
softly glowing through curtains
stealing onto the ceiling

robbing me of sleep
streaming, churning mindlessness
a holding pattern
clenched fists grasping on to night
keeping tomorrow at bay

they say he was mad
he was losing sanity
man of great insight
he saw swirls of bright colors
surrounding moonlit steeples

such brilliant pigments
simple scenes made astounding
sweeping lush valleys
peeling blue olive orchards
a lone man fixing the roads

potato people
peasants in muted shadings
psychological
the colors of poverty
the feelings of deep despair

a small green bedroom
wooden chair on wooden floors
a burning candle
pink roses in a green vase
sunflowers and irises

to look through his eyes
steal a glimpse into his mind
what I wouldn’t give
to see the world as he did
on a starry, starry night


Del Maximo
© July 24, 2009

morning light warms my face
through patches of bright blue cerulean
orphans’ tears drizzle and drop the
sky’s condolences upon my windshield
the musty smell of wet asphalt rises
from the streets
it’s raining on a sunny day
the devil is beating his wife

his father hurt his mother
beat her ****** with his hands
he took care of her after "dad" left
even took up studies on abused women
and championed their cause
but broken down, tired men
often fall back on ingrained memories
push came to shove came to hit
he couldn’t break violence’s cycle
his father taught him well

they vow to love and honor
these duplicitous sons of Janus
but things happen
plans don’t work out
shortfalls and failures
loose cowardice and bullying
frustrations are acted out on loved ones
promises forgotten
knots untied

secrets have a way of coming to light
frazzled nerves and shame are palpable
black eyes and contusions speak
serious injuries become a matter of record
written in hospital and police files
etched on the walls in the vaults of heaven
deeds done in darkness are no longer deniable
and the face he ended up hurting
is his own

to watch the stand of trees across the street
while sitting perfectly tall and still
on a summer afternoon
to notice the contraposto stance of the trunks and limbs
to breathe with breeze blowing foliage
to discern the veins, texture and color of each leaf
seeing the dark greens within
the lighter greens without
to alternately observe
within, without, within, without
to let your mind sway in the stillness of the earth
as your eyes drink in its warmth
to experience the space between the leaves
and the space between the trees
foreground to background
to know that God is there
He fills the space in between
He is the emptiness